


Wattson Wraith

by BigJBonk



Category: Danny Phantom
Genre: Author pretends to understand basketball, Blood and Injury, Brief description of grievous injury, Character Study, Character Turned Into a Ghost, Conspiracy theorist Wes, Cover Art, Danny is a Dumbass, Danny is actually clever, Exploration, Father-Son Relationship, Gen, Ghost Biology (Danny Phantom), Ghost Cores (Danny Phantom), Ghost battle, Halfa Wes, Hijinks & Shenanigans, Humor, Identity Reveal, Learning ghost powers, Mild Blood, My First Work in This Fandom, Not Phantom Planet Compliant (Danny Phantom), Nothing icky, Obsessions, Off-brand celebrity names, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Pining, Self-Indulgent, Slow Burn, Somebody make this child sleep, Team Up, Wes can't sleep, Wes is a dumbass, Wes is self-aware, Wes may be a cryptid, Yeah that's right. There's gonna be UFS baby., danny is tired, mentor Jazz, mentor danny, mild body horror, parent-child bonding
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-30
Updated: 2021-02-19
Packaged: 2021-03-06 22:41:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 22
Words: 64,697
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26186578
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BigJBonk/pseuds/BigJBonk
Summary: In a desperate bid to save his life after a ghost battle gone wrong, Danny turns Wes into a Halfa. Now, it's up to him to teach Wes how to use his newfound abilities, and what exactly being half ghost entails.(Originally called Windmaker.)
Relationships: Danny Fenton & Jazz Fenton, Danny Fenton & Tucker Foley & Sam Manson, Danny Fenton & Wesley Weston, Danny Fenton/Wesley Weston (eventually), Walter Weston & Wesley Weston, Wesley Weston & Danny Fenton & Jazz Fenton
Comments: 84
Kudos: 153





	1. Transformation

**Author's Note:**

> Hfdjfndnfndncndbd yeah the old title wasn't really fitting, and one of my buddies came up with an alliterative pun that foils with Danny's ghost name. And really, I can't not go with an alliterative pun that foils with Danny's ghost name.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hee hee hoo hoo I'm weak for a character that doesn't exist
> 
> Warning in this chapter for blood and grievous injury. I tried to tone it down as much as I could without undermining how serious it is, but the rest of the story won't be nearly this bad.
> 
> This is also my first work in the fandom, so I haven't quite pinned down the speech patterns. That'll come with time.

It wasn't supposed to be like this.

It was just another routine battle with Skulker, the same as any other. A game of cat and mouse, a little witty banter, some destruction of public property. The same song and dance as always.

But no one had ever gotten hurt like this before.

Nobody ever stuck around for fights like these. Too many stray lasers, too much flying debris. Sometimes even trees and buildings collapsed. It would be foolish to do anything besides flee the second a ghost appeared. It was better to let Phantom handle such matters. Nobody got hurt that way.

But when Danny touched down after a predictable victory, searching for cover so that he could change back, he heard something he hadn't heard before. It was hard to describe, sounding like wet, shallow bubbling. Something about it made Danny's gut wrench.

The Halfa followed the source of the sound, muscles tensed. For all he knew, this could be one of Skulker's traps. Still, he strained his ears, walking until he had reached a fallen tree. The noise originated from beneath it. It struck Danny, then, that someone, a _person,_ was underneath the tree.

Fighting the urge to panic, Danny dug his fingers under the splintered trunk, lifting with all his might. But the second the tree moved, the person— a _boy, this was just a boy_ — cried out in pain. But it sounded wet, hollow. Somehow, that was worse than if he had screamed.

Growing more frantic by the second, Danny circled around the branches, trying to get a better look at what he was dealing with. He almost wished he hadn't. Even the cover provided by the leaves couldn't hide the fact that the boy— whoever it was, it was hard to tell like this— had been impaled by a particularly sturdy branch, entering through his back and coming out the front a short ways. Danny couldn't stand to study the wound too closely. It didn't take him much longer to puzzle out that the noise he had heard before was the boy... the teen, struggling to breathe through a mouthful of blood. There was no way the branch hadn't pierced something vital. He needed to hurry.

"Don't worry, citizen," Danny said, sounding much calmer than he felt. "I'm going to get you out of there." But how, exactly, did one free somebody who had gotten impaled by a tree? If he pulled it up, the guy would bleed out long before he could get medical attention. But he couldn't just leave him down there, either. Was there even anything anyone could do? He didn't know if it was even possible to patch up something like this. Not soon enough, at least.

Well, he had one idea. A really stupid one, to be sure, but it was something.

"Listen," Danny told the teen, not sure if he was in any state to listen. "I'm going to pull the tree up, and it's going to hurt. A lot. So, uh. Brace yourself." He waited a couple seconds, but got no response besides garbled panting. Grimacing, he grabbed the trunk, lifting yet again. In a matter of seconds, the branch was out, making a horrifying squelching noise as it went. Danny immediately tossed the tree aside, kneeling and putting an ice cold hand over the wound to keep it from bleeding out.

As Danny knelt, freezing the ragged hole in the teen's back over, he realized that he recognized this boy. Went to school with him, even. The name Wesley briefly popped into his head at the sight of red hair and a white jersey, a bit different from what he typically wore at games... not that it was really white anymore.

Once the injury was sealed shut, Danny carefully but quickly rolled Wes over, doing the same to the one on the front. But there was nothing he could do about the blood escaping his lips, and his efforts would hardly matter anyway if he didn't act quickly. Wes was already far too pale.

The Halfa scooped up the tiny jock, cradling him close to his chest and taking to the sky. Wes was barely conscious, his eyelids fluttering as he struggled to take in air. He was shivering, too; even without taking blood loss into consideration, there was a very real possibility that he would freeze to death if Danny couldn't get him help in time.

But they weren't going to a hospital. No, Wes was already well beyond the point where that would do him any good.

The two touched down at FentonWorks, phasing through the wall and directly into the lab. Danny wasn't too worried about getting caught. He knew his parents would be busy investigating the remains of the battle with Skulker for some time. Still, he hoped this wouldn't all be in vain. Nobody had ever died on his watch, and he had no intention of that starting now.

Danny looked at the various dials for the portal, making absolutely sure it was deactivated before opening it up, setting Wes down somewhere in the middle. He was far too still, the faint bubbles near his nose the only real indicator that he was still alive. He had minutes left, if that.

The Halfa pulled out his phone, scrolling through his gallery until he saw the picture he was looking for, one depicting the portal and the gauges near it. He'd asked Sam for the picture after the whole fiasco with Desiree, just in case it ever came in handy again. He just hadn't expected to need it for something like this.

Shooting anxious glances at Wes, Danny adjusted the gauges until the settings matched those of the photo on his screen. He went to the main controls, hands hovering over the control panel. He took in a deep breath to steady himself. "Man, I really hope this works."

He slammed his hand down over the ON button.

The portal slowly hummed to life, starting at a low whine and increasing in pitch and intensity with every passing second. And then the whole room lit up with bright, swirling green light. This time, when Wes cried out, it was clear as day, a piercing scream that carried even over the roar of the portal. Distantly, Danny wondered if that's what he'd sounded like, when it was him inside the portal and not his dying classmate.

After a few seconds that felt more like hours, there was a spark, and then an explosion, knocking Danny clear off his feet. The portal powered down on its own, the low thrum fading to nothing, sparks flying from the chasm. It definitely wouldn't be turning on again any time soon.

Once he was sure that the last dregs of the portal had faded away, Danny approached the cavern, steps slow and cautious. He couldn't see into it very well, but he was sure that the heap at the edge of the darkness was Wes. He was very still, and very quiet. Swallowing the lump in his throat, Danny made his way inside, kneeling next to Wes.

At least, he was fairly certain it was Wes he was looking at. Even if he didn't look familiar, his features were largely the same. His hair, previously a deep red, had lightened to a fiery orange. His jersey colors had inverted, which was to be expected, with a black top and neon green accents throughout. The wound... didn't look as bad as before, at least. The bleeding had stopped, which had to be a good sign. Or, should have been.

But he wasn't breathing.

"No," Danny whispered. "No, oh no..." He was too late. What had he been thinking? Shoving his stalker into a ghost dimension and hoping that half killing him would save his life? That was probably the dumbest idea he'd ever had. Why couldn't he have just taken the guy to a hospital? They could have at least done _something._ Maybe not save him, but something. But now, because he had to go and be a hero, a hero who had no idea what he was supposed to be doing, he... he...

Suddenly, Wes sat bolt upright, sucking in an enormous breath. A glow sparked to life beneath his skin, a light blue similar to Danny's. Startled by the sudden motion, the Halfa took Wes's appearance in. He seemed different, like this, and not just in the sense that he was looking at a ghost. With eyes that managed to look both too dark and too vibrant, with freckles that were practically luminescent in the darkness of the portal, he was, all at once, both strikingly familiar and remarkably uncanny. It was like looking at a complete stranger, someone you may have once seen in a crowd but for the life of you couldn't remember. It was off-putting in a way Danny couldn't describe.

But he was _alive._

Wes hissed in pain as his quick movement tugged at his wounds, clutching at his chest. Then, he gasped, patting up and down his front with a baffled fascination. "I'm... I'm alive? But I... how?" He only then seemed to realize that he wasn't in the park from earlier. His gaze traveled around the interior of the portal, brows furrowed. "...Where-?"

"Wes?" Danny's uncertain voice drew the jock's attention. Danny... Fenton, Phantom, it didn't matter... had this odd look on his face, like he didn't know whether to smile, run, or cry. Maybe all three. "...Are you... Are you okay? Did it actually work?"

"Did what work?" Wes demanded. "Where am I? Where did you take me? What did you do?"

It took Phantom a second to answer him. "...We're in my parents' lab." Wes's nose wrinkled. Danny never did hide anything from him, not after he knew Wes had him figured out. It was infuriating how blasé he was about it, how open he could be and still have everyone be so blind to him. "You... A tree fell on you, and a branch went right through you. You were dying, but I knew that doctors wouldn't be able to patch you up, and so I..."

Wes looked at himself, then, really looked at himself. His clothes, they were the wrong color. He was glowing, amazed that he'd somehow missed that before _._ Heck, he was scabbing green, when he moved the torn fabric out of the way. "...What did you do to me?"

Phantom cringed, averting his eyes. "I... I made you like me. I thought that, maybe, you would be able to regenerate. That you would live."

"You made me a ghost!" Wes exclaimed, rising on unsteady feet. Recovering though he was, he was still far from healthy. "You're saying you... that you killed me! To keep me from dying?!"

"This isn't the same," Phantom told him, getting to his feet as well, hands itching to reach out and steady him on instinct. "Being a ghost isn't like being dead. It's something else entirely. If you had died... you wouldn't have come back as a ghost. You would have been gone. This was the only way I could think of to keep you alive."

Wes looked at him incredulously. Then, his eyes lit up with a realization. Actually lit up, his pupils brightening to a lime green shade. "Wait a minute... If you made me a ghost... then that means people will have to stop calling me Phantom! Ha!"

"I...What?!" Danny spluttered. "Why is this what you're worried about right now?! You have a hole in your chest!"

"Once people see me looking like this," Wes said with a grin, "they're gonna realize that I'm not the same ghost boy! Even better than that, they're gonna _have_ to listen to me when I tell them that Fenton and Phantom are one and the same!"

"...Wes, you have to understand why that's a horrible idea."

"I bet you think you can do whatever you want when no one knows it's you," seethed Wes. "You think you're hot stuff, don't you? Well, wait until everyone finds out that the local specter terrorizing the town is actually one of the biggest losers in school!"

"I don't terrorize anyone," Danny huffed. He didn't bother refuting the last comment.

"Right, right. Like that time you threatened the mayor wasn't terrorizing." Danny opened his mouth, but Wes cut him off. "No, don't you dare try to justify that. Man, just wait until everyone finally finds out. How long do you think you're gonna be grounded for? A month? A year? All the way through college?"

"Wes. Wes, listen to me. My parents are _ghost hunters._ Do you really think spilling my secret is a good idea?"

At that, Wes's cocky smirk faltered. "...Dude. These are your parents we're talking about. They won't do any worse than yell at you, and probably ground you."

Once again, Danny looked away. "I don't know, I just... I would feel a lot better if they didn't find out. At least, not until I figure out a good way to tell them."

There was a moment of awkward, contemplative silence. "...Fine. Okay. I won't tell anyone you're Phantom. But I can at least show everyone that I'm _not_ Phantom, right?"

Danny quirked a brow at that. "Hey, if you want to paint a huge target on your back, that's no business of mine. If having my parents and a whole government agency actively trying to take you out even in human form is what you want to do, then who am I to stop you?"

"...Government agency?"

"Uh, remember the Guys In White?" Danny pointed out. "Do you think, if they knew who you were, that they would ever stop hunting you down, just because you look human sometimes? I don't exactly hide my identity just for the novelty of it. It's bad enough already with Fenton and Phantom being separate people, as far as Amity Park is concerned. But if everyone knew that Danny Fenton was secretly a ghost, I would never get them off my tail. It wouldn't be any different for you. You wouldn't be able to hide in plain sight if anyone knew what you were."

"And you thought it was a good idea to turn me into something like you?" To his satisfaction, the other Halfa looked rather sheepish at that. He mercifully dropped the matter. "...You said something about regenerating?"

"I... Yeah," Danny replied. "Ghosts can reform their ectoplasmic structures faster than humans can form scabs or scars. For us, that basically means we heal a lot faster."

"You always come to class covered in bruises," Wes said. "But they always fade by the time school ends."

"Exactly! I mean, something like this will take a lot longer. Maybe... a week, if you don't aggravate it. Speaking of that, you might want to avoid basketball for a few days."

Wes pulled a face. "Ugh, fine. I'll... I'll say a ghost hit me or something. Does that work?"

"That should be fine," Danny replied. "But, uh, you should probably change back now. I don't know when my parents will be back, but if they see a couple of ghosts in their lab, they're gonna freak."

The redhead raised his brows. "Change back? How the heck do I change back?"

"I dunno, just... picture it?" Phantom supposed. "There's like, a feeling, I guess. It'll take some time to get the hang of it, but at the very least, it's way easier to look human than ghost."

Wes gave him a dubious look, then closed his eyes, concentrating. And then, there was a bright light. Not the bisecting of glowing rings, as with Danny and Vlad. Rather, Wes simply flashed. It only lasted a second, and when the glow faded, there stood the jock, looking as human as he had ten minutes before. Though Danny was happy to note that a lot of the color was already returning to his cheeks. Unfortunately, his jersey was caked in blood. It had been harder to notice when his jersey was black, but like this, it was impossible to miss it.

"Yeah, perfect. Just like that," Danny said, reverting to human form himself. "But, um. You should probably stay the night or something. You're still really hurt. And covered in blood."

Wes looked down at himself, relieved to see that he at least looked normal again. But he grimaced at the sight of the dark red caked into his clothes. "Right... Um, I should call my dad, then. He can bring me a change of clothes."

"Great, you do that. And come on, I'll show you where the guest bedroom is."

Danny led Wes out of the lab, who called his dad as they walked, letting him know he was staying with a friend for the night. Danny snickered at Wes's expression at using the word "friend," as if it left a bad taste in his mouth. The jock's injury throbbed as they moved, but overall, it wasn't nearly as painful as he would have expected.

Pretty soon they reached their destination, Danny ushering Wes into the room. "I'll answer the door when your dad gets here, so he doesn't see all..." he gestured at Wes in general, "...this. Uh, if you're hungry, let me know and I'll order out. Trust me, you don't want anything in the fridge. I've got games in my room down the hall if you get bored or whatever, bathroom is downstairs, and, uh. Try not to phase through the floor in your sleep, alright?"

Wes nodded to show that he'd heard, and Danny went towards his room, presumably calling his own parents to let them know he had someone over. There were a few blissful moments where Wes simply skimmed his social media pages. And then the last thing Danny said registered in his mind. "Wait, I can just phase through floors on accident?!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, there's chapter one! I don't expect future chapters to be very gory or anything, but I'm still gonna keep the T rating. I might feel like including some mild swears or something as I go, you never know.
> 
> Obviously this is gonna be super self indulgent. Still, I hope the rest of you enjoy the ride, too! There seems to be a real lack of Halfa Wes content, and I intend to add to it. If you have any questions, feel free to send me a message! Though I won't answer anything that might be a spoiler, haha.


	2. Colors

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, here's chapter 2! I got this one up pretty quick because, honestly, I had chapter 1 ready and waiting until I had this done. The first chapter really doesn't reflect the intended tone of the story, and was only meant to set the stage. So everything else should be pretty light, or at least not so... messy.

Wes couldn't sleep.

It wasn't just that he was thinking about what Danny had said about sinking through the floor, though that was definitely up there. If he was going to be doing stuff like that from now on, he didn't want it to happen in a house full of ghost hunters. It wasn't even the sharp ache in his chest that he swore went as deep as his lungs that kept him up.

No, what he was thinking about was the fact that he was half ghost, and all that might entail. For all those months he had tried to expose Danny, he'd never thought of the consequences. He was just so irritated by the accusations, when the truth was so blatantly obvious. Outing Danny as Phantom would have made it all stop. But he hadn't thought about the implications. How he might become a target to his own parents. How the government could take him away, and who knew what would become of him then. He just couldn't believe it took almost dying, becoming afflicted himself, to make him see just how awful that would be.

But more than that, Wes thought about what this meant for himself. He had ectoplasm running through his veins. He could glow, and become intangible, and he assumed he would be able to fly or turn invisible, if he really tried. Most ghosts seemed to be able to do that. Would he be able to fire lasers, too? Control ice? Shout loud enough to shatter concrete? As terrifying as the possibilities could be, he couldn't deny that it was cool. Like he had actual superpowers.

Suddenly, he was feeling rather curious. He'd seen what his jersey looked like, seen the light blue haze surrounding him like some sort of halo. But he had no idea what he actually looked like, in his ghost form. He knew there was a vanity in the room, he'd seen it when Danny showed him around. He wondered, would anyone notice if he were to transform? He imagined that he would light up much like Danny did, but surely it was late enough that everyone was asleep? And even if someone was awake, Danny's parents' room was at the far end of the hall, and his sister's room was next door to that. He didn't think anyone would notice a little light coming out from under the door for a couple seconds.

Though, all of this was assuming he could transform. Danny had said it was harder to be a ghost than a human, after all.

Still, he supposed it wouldn't hurt to try. He rose from the bed, hissing quietly as the movement tugged at his scabs. Getting to his feet, he placed himself in front of the vanity. The room was dark, but not so dark that he couldn't see his reflection, washed in blue-gray light from the window. As an afterthought, he went to close the blinds, not wanting to risk drawing too much attention. It took a few seconds to adjust after that, but then he gave his reflection a steely glare. "Well, here goes nothing," he whispered.

At first, nothing happened. Wes figured it was a long-shot, but he couldn't deny being a bit disappointed. But then, he was blinking away stars as he suddenly flashed. Cyan light pierced his eyelids, then gradually faded until it rested close to his skin, leaving behind a faint outline of his form. That... was definitely different from Danny. Maybe he needed to be wearing shades if he planned on doing that again.

The good news was, it was a lot easier to see when he was acting as his own light source. The jock focused on the vanity mirror, gasping quietly at what he saw.

His hair was lighter. A lot lighter. It was normally a brick red, but like this, it was as bright as a freaking traffic cone. And his eyes... His eyes had seemingly inverted. His irises had darkened, looking almost black, while his pupils were as green as the plasma rays Fenton was so fond of. Luckily the whites of his eyes were still _white._ It would have been really unsettling if they weren't. But his freckles. They glowed too, the same shade of neon green as his eyes. It was almost mesmerizing to look at, but it was... it was weird. He barely recognized the teen in his reflection. He leaned forwards, bracing himself with one arm as he used his free hand to pull down his lower eyelid for a better look.

And then his arm fell through.

To Wes's credit, he didn't cry out as his cheek smacked the counter-top, arm buried all the way to the shoulder. He quickly withdrew it, watching as his arm, blurry and indistinct, solidified once more. "Whew..." He straightened back out, then did a double take at his reflection. This time, he wasn't able to stifle the yelp that escaped his lips, hands quickly coming up to cover his mouth.

They were purple. His eyes, his freckles. They'd turned a pale shade of lavender. Could Danny's eyes do that? He'd never observed it himself. Outside of a couple of instances where his irises were red, he couldn't recall Danny's eyes ever being anything other than blue or green. That meant it was possible though, right? As his nerves began to settle, the lavender slowly shifted back into that vivid shade of green that seemed to be a ghost's default. "Huh..."

Nobody had heard him shout, had they? A few seconds of tense silence told him that he was in the clear. Wiping the nervous sweat from his brow, Wes focused on the vanity once more. He wondered, could he change colors on purpose?

It took some effort, but it turned out that he could. He pushed his features back to lavender, and then he tried blue. Then red, and orange, and white, and back to green. Rainbow seemed to be beyond him. Still, he was elated by this discovery, turning a rather sunny yellow at the revelation.

What else should he try? Did he dare? He didn't want to attempt phasing through anything, not trusting that he wouldn't pass through the floor to a place he shouldn't be. No way was he about to try lasers in the house, either. Maybe invisibility? No doubt that would come in handy. Or flight? How awesome would it be to zip around as fast as a car? Faster? What about super strength? And couldn't ghosts grow tails, too? There were so many possibilities, and he only had all night to explore them.

Or so he thought. Something tingled on his spine, the hairs on the back of his neck standing on end. He couldn't explain why, but every fiber of his being told him he needed to turn around, _right now._ And so he did, whirling to face the door, ignoring the sudden wave of vertigo as his healing body protested the motion. His brows furrowed, and his fingers twitched, not knowing what to expect, or if he should expect anything at all. It occurred to him that he should probably change back, but he didn't. This somehow felt... safer. Less vulnerable.

Danny burst through the door like the house was on fire, teeth clenched and hands balled into fists. But when he only saw Wes, he relaxed, pinching the bridge of his nose and closing the door behind him. "...Wes, what are you doing?"

The new Halfa flushed in embarrassment, having been caught red-handed. "Um... I... I couldn't sleep."

"You can't be going ghost in the house, Wes. What if my parents woke up and saw you? Or what if..." Danny paused, quirking a brow. "...Weren't your eyes green before?"

"Huh?" The jock turned to his reflection, seeing that his eyes were a deep fuchsia. "Oh. They... They uh, change color."

"They change color?" Danny parroted.

"Yeah," replied Wes. "Turns out I can make them all kinds of colors, if I want. My freckles, too. Can't you do it too?"

"...I don't know. I've never tried," the Halfa admitted. "But it can wait. You need to go to bed, we can get your ghost stuff figured out in the morning."

"Ghost stuff? In the morning?" Wes asked.

"Uh, yeah. It's gonna be Saturday, and ideally you'd want to have a handle on your powers before you accidentally set one off at school. I don't know how I was lucky enough that no one noticed, but we can't count on that happening a second time. And unless you know any other Halfas, I'm gonna have to be the one to help you out."

"What's a Halfa?" questioned Wes.

"Halfa human, halfa ghost," Danny replied. Wes stared at him. "...Don't look at me like that, I didn't come up with the name! Just go to bed, and no more ghost business until we're out of the house, got it?"

Wes rolled his eyes. "Ugh, fine. You're no fun." Still, he made no protest, taking a moment to focus so he could change back, this time having the presence of mind to close his eyes first. He crawled into bed, then glared as if to say, "happy?"

Danny let out an exasperated sigh, turning back to the door. "I mean it, get some sleep. You need the energy to heal, and your powers won't last too long if you don't get whatever rest you can."

"I already said I was gonna sleep, _dad,_ " Wes hissed at him. Danny rolled his entire head, opening the door and leaving the room. True to his word, Wes really did do his best to get some sleep.

He only hoped nobody noticed when he woke up on the dining room table that morning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wes is a bright and colorful boy. I kind of have his concept based on camera flashes, which led to light, and all that good stuff. He's got a smidge of cryptid thrown in for good measure too. You'll see.
> 
> Chapter lengths are probably going to vary, but they'll all most likely be 1k minimum. I also have no idea how many of these there will be, or even if a plot is going to develop. But I have a funny habit of taking a plot bunny, and having it evolve into this big thing that snowballs until it's dozens of thousands of words long. So I guess we'll just see where this goes.


	3. Untouchable

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Seems like people are liking Halfa Wes's design. That makes me happy to hear. XD Well, let's jump into chapter 3, shall we?

Wes was snickering.

Luckily, nobody had brought up the fact that he was the first one at the table, even though Danny did shoot him a knowing smirk. That was bad enough. And yet, the second he saw the guy's parents, he knew he wasn't going to be the one who was embarrassed.

The Fentons came downstairs in their jumpsuits. It was ten in the morning, and they were already dressed like they planned to handle raw uranium or something. Based on what Danny had said about not eating anything from the fridge, it was hardly reassuring. Still, it wasn't just their appearances that were rather silly.

"Look, Mads! It's Danny's new friend!" exclaimed Mr. Fenton, one arm wrapped around his wife and the other raised in the air in his excitement.

"Ohhh, I'm so happy for him!" Mrs. Fenton cooed, leaning towards Wes. "It's been so long since he's spent time with someone besides Sam and Tucker! I thought he was never going to find any new friends!"

"Guuuys," Danny whined, hiding his face in his hands. "Can we not do this now?"

Wes had to fight the urge to chuckle, even as the Fentons threatened to smother him. It was obviously more torturous for their son than it was for him. "I dunno. Tell me more about how hard it is for him to make friends." He grinned when Danny groaned.

"Talking about Danny-boy's poor social life can wait until after breakfast," Mr. Fenton barked happily, and _oh my god, he was wearing an apron over his jumpsuit._ "First, what does everyone say to some Fenton toast? Fenton eggs? I'm pretty sure we have bacon in the pantry!"

"You know what?" Danny piped up. "We've, uh, kinda got plans, and wecaneatsomethingonthewaybyyyyyyyye!" He grabbed Wes by the wrist, pulling him across the house and through the front door. Once he was sure he was safe, he groaned again, wiping one hand down his face.

Wes tugged his arm out of Danny's grasp, pulling a face. Then, he smirked smugly. "Nice folks you got there."

"More like mortifying," the smaller teen moaned. "Let's just get some burgers or something and we can get going."

"Burgers? For breakfast?" asked Wes.

"Are you really complaining? Come on, I know you're hungry." Danny tilted his head in the direction of Nasty Burger, his footsteps following not long after. And he wasn't wrong; Wes _was_ rather hungry. When was the last time he'd had anything to eat? Probably lunch the day before. Now that burgers had come up, he realized he was famished.

Soon, the two had made it to Casper High's most popular food joint, picking out a booth near the door. "Order whatever you want," said Danny, "and order lots of it. You're gonna need the calories."

"Really?" Wes guffawed, glancing across the menu. "You think you can afford to feed a career jock?"

"Hey, did you not see the lab?" Danny snorted. "We aren't exactly rich, but we definitely aren't poor either. I think I can handle a twenty dollar tab."

And handle it he did, the pair rising from their seats about thirty minutes later. Danny beckoned Wes out the door. "Time to get going. You up for a bit of a walk?"

"I'm always up for a walk," Wes replied. "But, uh. Where are we going?"

"Somewhere someone won't accidentally stumble across us," Danny told him. "And hopefully we won't be bothered by ghosts, either."

That place turned out to be a small wooded area on the outskirts of Amity Park. Danny hadn't been kidding. With the location being out of the way from the main part of the city, the chances of somebody passing by were rather low, as were the chances that a ghost would find it a worthwhile haunt. Even if someone did show up, they had quite a bit of cover, too. "Wow... How did you find a place like this?"

"I did a lot of flying around when I was new, looking for good places to get used to my powers without worrying about someone seeing me," Danny answered him with a shrug. "I found this place a couple months after I became a ghost, and decided to do some training here. And nobody has spotted me here yet, so I figure this is as good a place as any to train you, too."

Wes blinked at him, mildly surprised. "Huh, I didn't expect you to put so much thought into it. Now if only you applied yourself that much at school."

"Oh, can it," Danny grumped, transitioning into his ghost form. "Now give me your hand."

"I... Huh?" the redhead asked intelligently.

"Your hand," Danny repeated, beckoning with his own for Wes to take it. "The easiest power to slip up with is intangibility, so that's what we're working on first. And I want you to know what it feels like before we start."

"I found out what it felt like when I face planted on your stupid dresser," Wes grumbled.

"Just take my freaking hand," Phantom snapped. Wes rolled his eyes, before finally grasping it.

He was met with an odd tingling sensation, almost a buzz, starting at his fingertips. The feeling crept past his wrist and up his arm, blossoming across his face and chest before migrating down his torso and to the tips of his toes. He yelped as his feet suddenly sunk into the earth below, but he was prevented from plummeting with Danny hovering a few inches above the ground, Wes's hand firmly in his grip.

And then he was getting pulled up, a wash of jitters quickly running through his body as he was let go, dropping the couple inches to the ground. He was solid once more. "...Woah."

"So how did that feel?" Danny asked him, choosing not to comment on the less than graceful sound he'd made.

"...Kinda... tingly," Wes replied, shaking out the last of the buzzing at his fingertips. "Not bad, but... a little weird."

Phantom nodded, having expected such an answer. "Right. If you ever want to phase through something on purpose, call on that feeling. If you start to feel that and aren't interested in falling through the floor, then tamp it down before it really develops."

"...Just like that?" Wes questioned him. "You made it sound like this... this _huge, awful thing_ before, but now it's like you're saying it's the easiest thing ever!"

"Woah, who said anything about easy?" Danny scoffed, crossing his arms. "You can't fly yet, so that means that you gotta know how to go _partially_ intangible so you don't end up underground every time you do it. It takes a lot of fine control, you know. There's a reason it was one of the last powers I mastered."

"Well, why don't you teach me how to fly first, then?" demanded Wes.

"Because you're not going to fly on accident," Danny countered. Then he paused. "...But I guess learning to hover wouldn't hurt, at least until you get the hang of partial intangibility."

"...Is that hard too?"

"Actually, _that's_ pretty easy," the Halfa hummed in reply.

"Then why not start with that?!" Wes exclaimed.

"Hey, I haven't exactly taught anyone how to use their ghost powers before!" Danny huffed defensively. "It's not like I have lessons planned out."

Wes chuffed, crossing his arms and frowning. "So, tell me how to do it."

"Right, right. Can you go ghost for me? This'll be easier to learn in your ghost form than your human one." The redhead nodded, concentrating for a few seconds before changing with the characteristic flash of light. "Great. Now stop tethering yourself."

"Stop... excuse me?" Wes parroted, squinting in confusion.

"You feel lighter like this, don't you?" Danny asked. After thinking about it for a second, Wes nodded. "That's because ghosts are usually lighter than humans. So floating comes pretty naturally. But right now, your feet are touching the ground because you feel like they have to. Just let yourself be light."

"But won't I float away?" asked Wes.

"You won't, I promise," said Danny, chuckling. "Every ghost has their own natural hovering height, but it's never more than a few feet." To demonstrate, Danny lifted off of the ground, looking casual as you please, settling at roughly a foot and a half up with a slight bend to his knees. "I don't go higher than this unless I actually try to. It won't be any different for you."

Wes pursed his lips, frowning slightly. But he did as he was asked, willing himself to stop resisting the light pull. Sure enough, his feet left the ground, and his arms waved in frantic circles as he struggled not to lose his balance and do a somersault. But he was in the air. "Woah!"

"See? You're getting it!" Danny praised him.

The redhead grinned, his eyes glimmering chartreuse even as he tipped sideways. "Yeah! Yeah, I am!"

"Okay, balance yourself out," Phantom instructed, fighting a smirk at the sight of Wes slowly rotating and giggling to himself. With some difficulty, the young Halfa corrected his posture, occasionally wiggling as he tried to maintain it. "Now remember what it felt like when I made you intangible. Try to bring that feeling out. If you're doing it right, you'll sort of blur at the edges."

"Okay. Okay okay okay," Wes chanted, shaking himself out as he reigned in his giddiness. He recalled that tingling, the sensation of it as it had coursed through him. After a moment of concentration, it blossomed in his chest, spreading through his extremities before mellowing to a low hum. He looked down at himself, taking note of his now indistinct features. "Am I doing it?"

Suddenly, a small rock hurtled straight through his stomach. Wes shuddered as it left a brief rippling feeling, before settling back down a split second later. "Yep, you're doing it," Danny chirped.

"Did you... Did you just throw a rock at me?!" Wes spluttered.

"Nope," the Halfa replied, his mischievous grin not even remotely masking the blatant lie. Wes scowled at him. "Now we know you can do it on command. The hard part will be forcing yourself not to do it on accident. I told you how to avoid it, but that's something you're going to have to work out yourself."

Wes huffed, but he understood. Control would only come with practice, after all. He let himself return to corporeality, spinning in the air so that he was looking at Danny upside down, as if he was laying on his back. "So what're you going to teach me next?"

"Nothing," Danny said simply. "We're done for the day."

"Whaaat?" whined Wes. "But we barely started!"

"You're still hurt," Phantom reminded him. "And even if you weren't, you just became a ghost yesterday. Too much more and you'll be exhausted. And your dad will probably worry if you're gone too long, anyway. So we'll pick things back up tomorrow. Same time, same place." He drifted to the ground, changing back into Fenton as he did so. "I do want you to practice phasing in and out when you can, though. The sooner you get the hang of that, the better off you'll be."

Wes nodded, begrudgingly landing before changing back as well. He pulled at the collar of his jersey, taking a peek at his scab. Aside from some rather angry-looking redness at the edges, it seemed to be healing rather nicely. "You know, you would think getting impaled would hurt a lot worse."

"Supernatural resilience. One of the many, many perks to being half ghost," Danny said, in a dry tone that gave the impression that he could have been being sarcastic. Wes genuinely couldn't tell. "You know how to get home on your own, right? Or do you need me to take you there?"

"I can get home from here just fine," Wes replied. "But... thanks."

Danny waved off the gratitude. "Hey, give me your number, would you? We're gonna want to stay in touch." The redhead complied, albeit somewhat reluctantly. He just hoped the A-Listers never found out he was swapping numbers with Fenton, of all people. He would never hear the end of it.

"So. Same time tomorrow, right?" Wes clarified.

"Same time tomorrow. Keep practicing when you get home, but I seriously can't stress this enough. Don't overdo it. Even if it doesn't hurt much now, you still had a hole through you yesterday."

"I know, I know," Wes sighed, exasperated. He walked past Danny, heading back towards Amity Park. "I'm not gonna open myself back up, alright?"

Danny waited a short while before going ghost again, opting to sail overhead to keep an eye on Wes. Based on his prior experience with the guy, he wouldn't put it past the jock to hide how hurt he was just to learn more about ghosts. As Danny passed by, he noticed that Wes seemed to at least be walking normally. So it wasn't a front, then. That was good.

Satisfied with the knowledge that Wes was going to be fine, Danny flew home. He had someone he needed to talk to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So one thing I know is that this story will largely involve Wes learning about his new ghost powers, probably with a chapter dedicated to each. But I promise it won't all be the standard stuff, or that he'll be exactly the same as Danny! I also hope to mix in some character development chapters wherever I can fit them in. There are only so many powers a ghost can have, after all.
> 
> Well, I hope y'all are enjoying this so far, and stay tuned for the next chapter!


	4. Imperceptible

_"So I told my sister."_

This was not the kind of text Wes expected to wake up to Sunday morning. Especially not considering how Danny had drilled it into his head that nobody was to know about his newfound state of being. Frowning, he shot a text right back. _"Your sister? The girl who brings a portable mech suit for hunting ghosts to school? Why would you do that?!"_

_"Relax, I didn't say it was you,"_ came the quick reply. _"Just that it was someone she knows. She already knows I'm a Halfa, and I think she can help us. She's good at lesson planning."_ And really, she was. Jazz tutored him every other week; you didn't get to stay on the basketball team if your grades tanked, and practice didn't exactly leave a lot of time to study.

_"So she's safe?"_ Wes ventured, not entirely convinced that the daughter of two avid ghost hunters would keep her mouth shut. About her brother, sure. But who was to say that courtesy would extend to someone else? _"You swear she isn't going to sic your parents on me or something?"_

_"I swear,"_ Danny replied. _"But hey, show up in your ghost form, okay? I need to see something."_

Wes frowned. See what, exactly? How long it took for Jazz to shoot at anything that glowed? Sad as it was, he didn't put it past the shorter teen. After all the grief Wes had given him in the past trying to prove his identity to the school, maybe he thought it would be funny to get payback by sending his sister after him. Fenton tech wasn't exactly notoriously lethal. It would hurt, but maybe he deserved it. Maybe.

He decided to humor the request, changing the moment he had reached the treeline. His control was hardly perfect, but if it came down to it, he was fairly sure he could go intangible if he was greeted with the barrel of an ectogun.

Humming to himself in thought, Wes let himself hover, momentarily holding his arms out to his sides before finding his balance. And then he drifted forwards, bobbing gently all the while. Funny enough, it was easier than floating in place, almost like riding a bike. He chuckled happily at the knowledge that he was moving without even touching the ground. He didn't think that would ever get old.

Wes momentarily halted as a vaguely familiar feeling struck him. He shuddered, the fine hairs on his neck and arms standing on end. Just like the first time, it was as if his body was screaming the words "danger" at him. His eyes focused straight ahead, where his senses told him the danger lied. He wanted to turn back, but... wasn't that where Danny and Jazz were supposed to be waiting for him? Maybe it would be safer to turn around and leave, but in the end, his curiosity won out, and he floated on ahead.

It wasn't long before he caught sight of the pair, but there was no sign of anything that could have set him off. He touched down on the grassy floor, brows knit with confusion as he glanced around. "What was...?"

Danny quirked a brow at the unfinished question, but Jazz instead looked intrigued. "Oh, so you must be the new ghost, then?" She glanced at her little brother, who confirmed her suspicion with a single nod. Bolstered by the affirmation, she turned back to the new Halfa, striding forward so that she was at a more comfortable speaking distance. "Danny wouldn't tell me who you were, but he said you were someone I'd met before. Do I know you from school?"

Wes's eyebrows shot up, flabbergasted by the question. "I... yeah? You're my tutor."

"Tutoring, of course!" Jazz beamed, but the smile quickly faltered. "But... I don't think we've had a session in a while, have we?"

"...You helped me with my geometry homework last week, Jazz."

The older teen studied him, then simply shook her head. "I'm really sorry, I don't mean to be rude, but I don't remember teaching you anything. But maybe that's just because going ghost makes you look different? I'm sure if you told me your name it would come back to me."

Wes's eyes flickered, not sure if they wanted to settle on lilac or orange. Could she really not recognize him? He didn't look all that different, did he? He still had his freckles, his jersey and sneakers, his ginger hair. Even if everything had changed colors a bit, he still looked so much like himself, even more than Fenton and Phantom did. He just couldn't understand why Jazz wouldn't recognize someone she saw less than a week ago. And neither could Danny, judging by the uncharacteristically pensive look on his face.

"...Wes Weston? Hello?" The jock wiggled his hands at shoulder level, as if his identity was the most obvious thing in the world. And really, it should have been.

Jazz's mouth formed a small "o" in realization, but Wes could tell by the look in her eyes that it hadn't clicked. "...Wesley? But... No, it makes sense, you look so much alike. But I..."

"You don't recognize him," Danny finished for her, speaking up for the first time since meeting up. "I couldn't at first, either. Honestly, I still can't."

"...What are you talking about?" Wes demanded. "How many redheads in basketball jerseys do you know? Who else would I look like?!"

"Well, that's just it," Danny replied. "You still look almost just like you, which isn't really a good thing if you want to keep the government off your back. But when I first saw you looking like... like _this,_ it was like I didn't even know you. I knew it had to be you, because you really couldn't have been anyone else, but I just can't look at you and think _Wes._ " He turned to look at his sister. "I wanted to make sure it wasn't just me."

"...So what you're saying," Wes started, "is that you can be looking right at me, and know exactly who I am, and you _still_ can't tell it's me?" Danny and Jazz nodded practically in unison. "...That's... so... cool! I can hide in plain sight! It's like I'm a real life cryptid!"

Looking rather nonplussed by the cheerful outburst, Danny said, "You're a ghost, Wes. That already makes you a cryptid. But yeah, so long as someone doesn't turn out to be a Wes to you like you were to me, your secret should be pretty safe."

"Now, if I can ask," Jazz interjected, "how, exactly, did Wesley become a Halfa? Doesn't that require an insane amount of ectoradiation? And the luck to survive it?"

"Wait, it could have actually killed me?!" Wes exclaimed.

Danny held up a hand to silence the indignant jock, then turned to look at Jazz. "Well, funny story... There was a fight with Skulker on Friday, and I guess Wes got caught up in it. A tree fell on him and kinda impaled him, so I may have... thrown him into the ghost portal?"

"You _WHAT?!_ " Jazz shrieked, grabbing his shoulders. "Danny, why would you do something like that?! Why not just take him to a hospital?!"

The Halfa shoved her hands away from him. "Look, I panicked, okay?! There was no way any doctors could help him in time, and I did the one thing I could think of that actually had a chance of saving him! And it worked, didn't it? He's healing!"

He wasn't wrong. It had been two days, and already Wes's wounds were beginning to seal. He'd sworn the one on his chest was smaller when he woke up than when he'd gone to bed. But that didn't mean he wasn't a bit miffed that there was no guarantee of his survival to begin with.

Jazz opened her mouth to argue further, but then closed it. It was true, Wes did seem remarkably healthy for having a wound so severe. And it was clear that just mentioning the incident had Danny stressed. It wouldn't help anything for her to continue pestering him about it. She sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. "...Okay, fine, I get it. You did what you could, and he's fine. You wanted me to help teach him about his powers, right?"

"Right," Danny sighed, glad that she had changed the subject. "I figured it would be a good idea to help him manage his powers so he didn't accidentally expose himself at school or something, but I'm not very good at teaching, so..."

"Aww, how responsible of you," Jazz gushed, playfully ruffling his hair. Wes snorted, and Danny pouted, swatting his sister's hand away. Smiling, she turned back to Wes. "So, what am I working with here? What do you have a handle on so far?"

The redhead frowned in thought, counting off on his fingers. "I can transform, hover, my eyes can change colors, and I can kinda go intangible. But I still mess up on that sometimes. Do you know what it's like to have food you just swallowed pass literally right through you? It isn't fun."

"Hmm, that isn't a bad start," Jazz hummed to herself, typing something on what Wes had first assumed was a watch. "...I think it would be best to start you off easy, so none of the big powers that'll drain your core. Maybe we can start with-"

"Wait, what's a core?" Wes cut her off, eyes alight with sparked interest.

"Careful Jazz," Danny warned. "This guy will go off on all sorts of tangents if you let him get sidetracked."

The tutor rolled her eyes affectionately, already well aware of Wes's tendency to ask questions about every little thing. "The short answer is that a core is the source of a ghost's powers, and helps hold its form together. But you don't have to worry about that last part, since you still have a physical body. So for you, a core is like an energy source for your powers." She held up her hand as Wes opened his mouth to ask something else, but she smiled teasingly. "Now why don't you let me finish what I was trying to say?"

Wes scooted back, grinning sheepishly. "Yes ma'am."

Nodding to herself, Jazz continued. "I think the best place to go from here would be invisibility. Right now, the most important thing is to learn how to escape a situation if another one of your powers goes haywire. And the easiest ways to do that are becoming intangible, which I see Danny has already been teaching you," her brother smirked proudly, "and becoming invisible. If you can master both, there isn't much out there that can stop you outside of other ghosts."

Wes was practically vibrating with excitement. There was so much he could do with those two powers alone, and if Danny was anything to go off of, that wouldn't even be scratching the surface of what he would grow to be capable of. He started floating, unbidden. "Okay, I'm ready! Just show me what to do!"

Seeing that it was his time to teach, Danny stepped forwards, transforming and reaching one hand out. Wes didn't need to be told to grasp it. Unlike going intangible, which felt like a rush of pins and needles, this was like being swathed in a cool, damp blanket. Initially somewhat smothering, it quickly became something comfortable, almost calming. It felt like safety. Sure enough, when he tried to get a good look at himself, all he saw was the dirt and grass beneath him. "Oh!"

"I think you know the drill," Danny said, bringing them both back to full visibility. "This should be a bit easier than intangibility, but it'll still take some time to master."

Wes tried bringing forth that feeling, basking as that soothing calmness washed over him again. It came slower than intangibility, but Danny was right; once he had it, it was much easier to sustain. He wondered how much had to do with the power itself, and how much was just because it was a more pleasant sensation.

Danny curled a finger against his chin, lips pursed as he scrutinized the place Wes had last been floating. He stepped closer, that thoughtful expression still on his face. Then, without warning, he reached out, flicking Wes on the nose.

"Ow!" he cried, wheeling back and snapping back to the visible spectrum, both hands clapped over his nose. "What did you do that for?!"

"I could still see you," Danny replied with a smirk. "You were mostly see through, but invisibility has to be all or nothing. It won't help you if people can still see your outline."

"You coulda just told me instead of flicking me," Wes pouted.

Danny shrugged. "Nah, this was funnier." When the younger Halfa scowled red, he put his hands up, the smile still refusing to leave his face. "Alright, alright. Try again, and this time move somewhere else so we don't know where you are. Let's see if Jazz can find you."

"...Why Jazz?" Wes asked.

The eldest teen was the one to respond. "Ghosts usually aren't too shabby at finding other ghosts, even invisible ones. If you can disappear without me finding you, then we'll know you have enough of a handle on it to hide from humans, at least."

Well. He supposed that made sense. He willed himself invisible yet again, hoping that this time it would be enough to actually hide him. Then he floated towards a nearby tree, parking himself behind it. As an afterthought, he put his hands against it, using them as a guide as he allowed gravity to loosen its grasp on him. It was hardly flight, more like an enhanced hover, but he still felt rather smug as he settled on a branch about ten feet up. There was no way Jazz would think to find him up there, especially if he was truly invisible.

It was pretty obvious from the start that Phantom knew where he was. His arms were crossed, his head following Jazz's movements, but the rest of his body was facing Wes. Still, he offered his sister no hints, allowing her to wander around in search of their new student. Not once did she look up, so Wes was pretty confident that he wasn't a bright orange blot in the green backdrop. After a few minutes of searching, though, he almost wished she would find him. He could feel himself wearing out, like a physical weight was settling in his chest. He didn't think he could hang onto his transparency for much longer.

Mercifully, Jazz seemed to give up moments later, and Danny smirked, shooting Wes a thumbs-up. So he really did know where he was hiding. The jerk. Wes fluttered back to the ground, letting color back into his features with a relieved gasp. "Man, that's tough," he breathed. "But I did it right that time, right?"

"Well, I couldn't tell where you were," said Jazz. "So I would consider that a win." Wes pumped a fist.

"We should probably call it quits for the day," Danny said, scrutinizing the young Halfa. "I can tell you're tired, you won't be able to keep this up. Still, uh. Good job floating today, too?"

Wes pouted at him. "I could keep going."

"Not without losing your form, you can't," Danny scolded him. "You think I don't know what core exhaustion looks like? You changed two days ago, so you can't expect to keep using your powers without it totally draining you. Go home, get something to eat, and keep practicing what we've already taught you on your own time. But-"

"Don't overdo it, I know," Wes whined, rolling his eyes. "You seem to think I'm just as irresponsible as you or something."

"Hey, no picking on my little brother," Jazz chided him, but her expression quickly softened. "Next time we meet up, I think we should figure out flying. You seem pretty good at floating already, so that seems like a natural next step, right?"

"When _do_ we meet up again?" Wes questioned, already eager at the thought. "We have school tomorrow."

Jazz thought about that for a moment. "After school on Friday," she decided. "Your core should be a bit more settled by then, so it should be able to handle flight."

"That should be plenty of time," Danny agreed. "If we're lucky, you'll be all healed up by then, too." Wes nodded. At the rate he was healing at, he would probably just have a really big scar by then.

Since the lesson was over, the jock changed back, a weary ache settling into his bones as he did so. Maybe he really had overdone it. Who knew making yourself completely see through for five minutes straight would take so much out of you?

Danny transformed as well, and Jazz stepped forward. "Do you need a ride home? You must be so exhausted."

"Seriously, do you both think I can't get home on my own?" Wes scowled. "Thanks, but I'll be fine." Jazz hovered a bit more, but she relented, seeing that her student was intent on going home alone. Sure enough, he turned on his heel right then and there, heading back the way he'd come. But he did toss a look over his shoulder, giving the pair a nod of acknowledgement before disappearing behind the trees.

Jazz put her hands on her hips, looking at her little brother out of the corner of her eye. "You really have your work cut out for you with this one."

Danny snorted. "Don't I know it. Of all the people to turn half ghost, it had to be this guy, huh."

"He's an eager learner, but he's got a bad attitude when it comes to you," she told him. Like he didn't already know. "You think you can handle him?"

The Halfa sighed through his nose. "I'm the one who caused this mess. So I guess I'll have to."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't have a whole lot to say for this chapter, but the next one isn't gonna focus on any sort of power. Just gonna be some Danny and Wes hijinks. So hopefully that turns out to be fun, haha.
> 
> See you guys next time!


	5. Conviction

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we go into another chapter! This seriously has to be some sort of writing record. 12k words in like a week and a half? That's practically unheard of for me. Oh, the joys of being fresh into a fandom.
> 
> This time around we're not focusing on exposition, or mastering a ghost power. This one will purely be about school hijinks. Hopefully you guys enjoy it!

Danny had forgotten about the speech due Monday.

He glanced around the room, seeing that nearly everyone had a flash drive in front of them on their desks. It had been a free choice presentation, that much he remembered. They were going to be graded on eye contact, thoroughness, clear speaking, and the like. Did he even have a topic to talk about? He'd been so focused on making sure Wes could make it through a class without doing something obvious, he hadn't even thought about his school assignments. He was _so_ not looking forward to the make up test.

One by one, each of Danny's classmates gave their speeches. A favorite comic book character's riveting motive, the relationship between sleep cycles and depression, all the reasons why pizza and ranch was a terrible mix. The topics flew by in a resigned haze.

And then Wes stepped up.

Wes twirled his flash drive, smoothly inserting it into Lancer's laptop with practiced ease. His fingers skimmed the keyboard in a blur, humming to himself as he pulled up his project. With a dramatic flourish, he hit the enter key, making dead eye contact with Danny as the title card appeared on the projector screen.

_**The D Is For Deception: The Inarguable Identity of Inviso-Bill.** _

"Seriously? Not this again," Star huffed. Lancer was already cradling his head in his hand, far too tired to point out that this was the third time this month that Wes had made this same presentation.

Distantly, Danny heard the heated remarks Wes made. Their names sounded similar, they looked alike, they never appeared in the same place at once. The only remotely new piece of information was a height comparison, using pictures with Paulina in them as a unit of measurement. It was nothing incriminating, nothing the class hadn't been presented with before. Nothing they believed. It hardly put him at risk. And yet...

The speech ended before he knew it, Wes closing the project and swiftly ejecting the drive. He kept his eyes glued on the subject of his presentation the whole way to his desk, his expression unreadable. And then he broke contact, his gaze focused to the front of the room for the remainder of class.

Danny kept his hands under his desk, wringing them profusely. He feared he would break something if he put them anywhere else.

({O})

It was a small blessing when the bell for lunch rang. The students exited the cramped classroom in small clumps, chatting amongst themselves and fretting over their grades for the day. Wes was well aware that he wasn't getting higher than a C. He'd presented such evidence more times than he could count, and had never done better than a B- on it. But it hardly mattered. Far more pressing was whether he was going to brave the meatloaf or the fish sandwich today.

The increasingly-familiar tingle on the back of his neck was the only warning he got before he was being shoved into a janitor's closet, phasing through the door before be could even blink. He gasped as his back, still tender, collided with a wall packed with cleaning supplies. He grasped the wrists of his attacker, whose hands kept him pinned by his shoulders, eyes glowing a bright, furious green.

"You _promised,_ " Danny growled.

"F-Fenton?" Wes wheezed, trying and failing to push himself away from the cluttered shelf. Danny's hold on him loosened just a hair, but stubbornly refused to release him. And honestly, someone his size had no business being that strong.

"You _swore_ you wouldn't tell anyone," Danny hissed, "and the first thing you did was blab to the whole class like nothing changed?"

Wes raised his hands defensively, a nervous laugh escaping him. "Wait, hold on, if you just listen to me, I can-"

"I tried to _help_ you, Wes," the Halfa cut him off, "and you... Why would... Do you even care? Do you _want_ someone to find me, and... and cut me open like some science experiment?!"

"Of course I don't want that!" Wes barked, his tone bordering on something hysterical. Danny barely came up to his chin, had to look up at Wes to see him properly. There was no reason for him to be so terrifying.

"...Then why?"

"Don't you think it would be more suspicious if I suddenly stopped?"

That gave Danny pause, his eyes flickering back to a normal shade of blue. "...What?"

"Nobody has ever believed me about you," Wes said bitterly. Even if he understood what was at stake now, it was still frustrating to think about. To present the facts and get nothing but laughed at for your efforts. "...Nobody. And at this point I don't think they will, no matter what I say. But that never stopped me before. If I quit now, what if somebody else looks into it? Wonders _why_ the obsessive nut of Casper High stopped? People would ask questions."

Danny stared at Wes long and hard, then finally let him go, giving him a hard, but not painful, shove. "And you couldn't have given me some sort of heads up?!"

"I'm sorry, I didn't think about it!" protested Wes.

"Urgh, you're so... so...!" Danny didn't finish his sentence, instead wiping both hands down this face. "...This has to stop."

"Gee, I'd love to," Wes snarked. "But that would be suspicious, remember? Since, you know, I'm the guy who knows the truth and has to make sure everyone else knows it too?"

Danny furrowed his brow, crossing his arms and putting a finger to his chin. After a few seconds, a smirk crept its way onto his face. "...Then I guess we're just gonna have to prove you wrong."

Wes gaped at him, confused. "Huh? But how are you...?" He was interrupted by the sound of footsteps down the hall, and getting closer. Somebody had heard their shouting, no doubt. What would they think, finding the two of them inside of a cramped closet like this? How would he explain that?

Danny grabbed him by the wrists, and at the same time Wes turned them both around, so that his back was to the door and Danny's was to the shelf. Thinking quickly, the jock balled one hand up in the front of Danny's shirt, the other cocked back in a fist.

And not a moment too soon, as right then the closet door opened, revealing a rather curious Dash and Kwan. "What the heck is going on here?" Dash demanded, sneering at the pair. "I thought I heard a couple of dweebs whining in here."

Luckily, Danny seemed to get what Wes was trying to do, releasing his grip on his wrists so he could make a show of guarding his face. Wes looked over his shoulder, stammering out a hasty reply. "Oh, you know, um. Teaching Fenton a lesson? Because, uh, that's what we jocks do, right? Beat up losers like this guy?"

"Watch it, you barely count as a jock. But..." Dash hummed. "...Huh. You know what? I never thought you had it in you. We'll keep watch out here, you finish your business in there."

Blinking at the strange show of solidarity, Wes nodded. "O-Okay. Um. Thanks." He toed the door shut, then turned back to Danny. "We'll talk later," he whispered. He let go, smacking the wall near him to make some convincing noise. As he did that, Danny phased out, leaving the closet entirely. Wes then stepped out himself, dusting off his hands while Dash and Kwan nodded approvingly.

He didn't know what Danny had planned, but maybe, just maybe, it would be easier to trick these guys than he thought.

({O})

Wes didn't see any sign of Fenton until after lunch. He showed up to science class, naturally ten minutes late, looking like he hadn't slept in two days. Wes frowned. Knowing him, he'd gotten into another ghost fight, one that may have been a little more than he could handle. And of course he'd skipped lunch to do it. For someone who constantly preached that Halfas needed to eat three full meals to keep their energy levels up, he sure skipped lunch a lot.

It was a rather ordinary class that day. A worksheet about molarity and molality, and then a partner lab to practice the concept. Wes couldn't help but notice the vacant look on Danny's face, the way it took him a solid five seconds to follow Sam's ushered instructions. Whoever the other ghost had been, they must have taken a lot out of him. He shuddered to think of who could have possibly had Fenton on the ropes.

It was a half hour into class when Wes got that feeling, that tingling he had learned to both expect and dread. A warning. Something was wrong. He cast a glance at Danny, but the younger teen looked totally oblivious. Weird. Usually he was the first to notice a change in atmosphere, to stammer an excuse and bolt from the room.

And then the temperature dropped. A ghost, formless at first but solidifying as he watched, cast the room in an eerie blue light. The students gasped in horror, backing to the far end of the room as the spirit's form expanded, filling out to a rather solid six feet. A sturdy man, all broad shoulders and chilling glares. Fingers splayed out threateningly at his sides, teeth baring in a crooked grin.

"I AM THE BOX GHOST!"

Oh. Wes was almost disappointed. As far as ghosts went, the Box Ghost was hardly the most dangerous. But he was far from harmless, especially if he'd recently found a box or two of something he could actually use. And right then, he seemed to have found a rather concerning number of thumb tack packages. Wes huddled back with the rest of the class. He was perfectly happy with not being a human pincushion, thank you very much. Still, he knew that this was nothing Fenton couldn't handle, even as apparently weakened as he was. He just needed to find an opportunity to get away to transform.

Only, he didn't do that. Didn't even make the attempt. Danny's knees knocked together, his teeth chattering in fright as he backed away from the evil spirit. But... why? He could have beaten the Box Ghost in ten seconds flat, with one hand behind his back, and that was on a bad day. To see him cowering now was...

_What in the world are you thinking, Fenton?_

And then Phantom barreled into the room.

One second the Box Ghost was laughing as he advanced on the class, and the next he was getting blasted into the wall. Phantom's extended palm glowed with residual green light, illuminating his cocky smirk. "Can't we put a pin in this for later? It's been a crazy week, and this is seriously the last thing I need right now."

Wes blinked. Then he blinked again. He looked to his side, and sure enough, Danny was watching the whole thing unfold, eyes wide and terrified. But... how could he be two places at once? And in two different forms? He just couldn't wrap his head around it.

Box Ghost had freed himself from the wall, gritting his teeth at Phantom. "You dare to attack the Box Ghost?! I will express ship you to your doom!"

The specter thrust his hands in front of himself, sending tacks flying out, luckily away from the uneasy students. Phantom swerved around most, letting those he couldn't dodge harmlessly pass through him. He then countered with a powerful uppercut, sending the Box Ghost sailing through the ceiling, where he then followed. The class looked up, no longer able to see the action, but listening in nonetheless. Judging by the boyish laughter and anguished screams, it was clear that Phantom was winning.

And just like that, it was over. The sounds of battle dwindled to a stop, the atmosphere warming up seconds later. When neither ghost made an appearance after a few minutes, the class settled back down, returning to their experiments like nothing had happened. Wes was stuck gaping.

Less than an hour later, class finally ended, and students made their way out of the classroom, minding the tacks on the floor that the teacher was still trying to pick up one by one. The last two to leave were Danny and Wes, the latter giving the former an incredulous stare. "Okay, what the heck was that, Fenton?"

Danny smiled innocently, giving him a smug look from the corner of his eye. Funny, he looked a lot more lively now, some of the light returning to his tired eyes. "Wes Weston had never seen Fenton and Phantom in the same room, right? And yet there we were, with you as witness."

Wes raised his brows. "...Alright, but how?"

The Halfa chuckled. "Let's just say, when you fight ghosts as often as I do, you tend to pick up a few tricks." With no further explanation, he strode ahead, entering the room for his next class.

Wes slowed to a stop, staring at the doorway, trying and failing to comprehend what he had just seen. There was just no way. Unless...

_Can Fenton freaking duplicate?!_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that wraps up chapter five!
> 
> This chapter was partially me helping readers who might not know about Wes fanon better understand what his role in Danny's life has been, and partially me covering my narrative bases. He's never been out to actively get Danny in trouble, he just didn't understand how harmful his actions could be until he was in the same boat.
> 
> I'm still deciding where I want to go with chapter six, but I don't think I want to jump right into another power quite yet. Maybe I'll try going for a more action oriented chapter? We'll see how that goes.
> 
> See y'all next time!


	6. Gravity

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we go with another one of these bad boys. I figured I would try to write a more action-packed chapter. I haven't written too many of these, I could use the practice.
> 
> If you're a returning reader, you probably saw that I changed the title. Windmaker was a misnomer to begin with (it was going to be a bit of a gag), but a good pal of mine thought of something that thematically fit a little better. Thus Wattson Wraith.

Wes couldn't sit still.

It was Wednesday afternoon, and Wes was seated at his desk, waiting for his last class of the day to end. His chin was cupped in his hand, and his leg bounced with an intensity that belied his sheer boredom.

He missed basketball. He hadn't attended practice all week. He'd told his coach on Monday that he had been attacked by a ghost, and needed some time to recuperate. She'd been understanding about the matter, and allowed him to sit out training. It left him a lot of time for homework, which was nice, don't get him wrong. He was thankful to have the time off. But at the same time, he was bored out of his mind. Not being able to run around like he used to, it was almost agonizing.

So he decided. Today, he was going back to practice. He was certain he had healed enough. After only five days, his scab was starting to peel away in flakes. That meant he had to be doing better, right? As long as he didn't twist wrong and pull at his wounds, he would be fine. He was sure of it.

Five minutes before class ended, Wes was practically vibrating in his seat. When the bell finally rang, he was the first one out the door, making a dash for the gym. If he hurried, maybe he would have enough time to convince Ms. Tetslaff that he was perfectly healthy and ready to play.

The jock gasped and skidded to a stop as the hairs on the back of his neck suddenly stood on end. He groaned, then looked this way and that, searching for a good place to hide. He spotted an empty classroom, darting into it and pressing himself flush against the wall, out of view from the doorway. He wasn't intent on running head-first into danger, thank you very much.

Seconds later, Danny also threw himself into the room, transforming the second the door had shut behind him. He only then seemed to notice he wasn't alone, yelping and instinctively covering his face. But he quickly realized who he was sharing a room with, and his shoulders slumped, brows furrowing with irritation. "What are you doing in here?"

"Uh, hiding?" Wes replied, quirking a brow. "Who's out there, anyway? Did you see who it was?"

"Pretty sure I caught a glimpse of Shadow," Danny growled, "meaning Johnny is around here somewhere causing trouble. And I don't intend to let him stick around long enough to find out what he has planned."

The Halfa turned to fly out of the classroom, but Wes grabbed his wrist. "Take me with you."

"What?!"

Danny wasn't the only one shocked. Wes couldn't believe he'd suggested it, either. He didn't know who Shadow and Johnny were, but one ghost was terrifying enough. Two was unthinkable. His hands shook just thinking about it.

...But it wasn't a totally unappealing idea, either. He had ghost powers now, so it stood to reason that he would be able to hold his own, didn't it? Besides, he could use the exercise, and this was the perfect opportunity to get back into practice.

"Are you crazy?!" Danny shouted, wrenching his hand away. "You're nowhere near ready for something like this! You still don't have any offensive powers, and I _know_ you haven't fully healed yet."

"I can totally handle it," Wes argued, frowning. "You said there were two of them, right? What if I took one and you took the other?"

Danny pursed his lips. He didn't like this, not one bit. But he could tell Wes wasn't going to back down. No matter what he did, the guy was going to just follow him anyway. He was stubborn like that. But maybe, just maybe, he could get Shadow and Johnny separated; Shadow was the bigger threat, so if he had that busy, Wes could take on the weaker ghost. All of this, of course, was assuming he couldn't get everything taken care of before Wes got there.

Finally, the Halfa wiped both hands down his face, the motion dragging at his eyelids. "Ugh, fine. If you can keep up with me, you can come. But stay out of sight, and don't take either of them on unless I'm in trouble, got it?"

"Yes!" Wes cheered, pumping both fists and transforming with a flash of light. Danny groaned, slipping out of the room as a wisp of spectral smoke. Wes trailed after him, going invisible and running straight through the wall. He shivered at the bizarre feeling of passing through drywall, but he pressed on, booking it down the hallway after Danny. The more experienced ghost clearly wasn't bothering to slow down for him, but Wes was undeterred, taking to the air and hovering as fast as he could with his shaky control, an exhilarated grin on his face. He was doing this, _actually doing this._

It was no time at all before he lost sight of Phantom, but Wes pressed on. That irritating hum, that... ghost sense?... niggled at the back of his mind, alerting him to the presence of the threat. Rather than veering away, he sped towards it, knowing that was where Danny was headed, too. If worst came to worst, Wes knew that he could handle things well enough. They would be fine.

Soon he was barreling through the school doors, still invisible, skidding to a stop as he saw Danny facing off with... what just looked like another teen. The only things indicating he was a ghost were his unnaturally clammy skin, and a faint white glow. As far as ghosts went, he wasn't actually all that scary. Behind him was no less than a dozen girls, all looking shaken and scared out of their wits. Based on that, and the fact that Danny was giving the stranger a rather chilling glare, this guy was really bad news, even if he didn't look like it.

"What are you doing here, Johnny?" Danny was saying. "I thought I told you to leave this school alone."

"Relax, kid, I'm not here to hurt anyone," Johnny drawled. "I'm just looking to get myself a new girl. Things with Kitty... didn't really work out."

"Seriously? You guys separated _again?_ " Danny gawked. "Man, maybe you guys should really look into couples therapy." He shook his head. "Either way, you need to leave. I've already warned you what would happen if you came back."

"And what are you going to do? Stop me?" Johnny whistled, and Shadow appeared at his side, and oh, _that_ was why Wes inviting himself to fight ghosts was a bad idea. The thing was terrifying. It grinned at its partner in crime, holding Star in its sharp clutches. Johnny hummed, scrutinizing the horrified girl. "Hey, you're pretty cute. What do you think, Shadow? She the one?"

Danny somehow glared harder, his eyes glowing dangerously. "Let them go, Johnny."

"You know what?" The biker wrapped an arm around Star, tugging her close so that she was flush against his side. "I don't think I will. Get him, Shadow!" The specter growled menacingly, flashing a row of sharp teeth in a vicious grin as it threw itself at Phantom. While he was distracted, Johnny hopped onto his motorcycle, a screaming Star in tow as he skidded in the parking lot before taking off.

Wes gasped, totally at a loss for what to do, and looked at Danny. But he was too busy wrestling with Shadow, the pair barely anything more than a writhing mass of limbs and the occasional laser. Danny wasn't freeing himself from it, not any time soon. So it was up to Wes, then, to somehow catch up to a freaking motorcycle when he couldn't even top... 25 miles an hour? He sighed, then grit his teeth. At the very least, he had to try.

Wes sped off, making himself visible once more so he could focus his energy entirely on building as much speed as possible. Students leaped out of his way with confused shouts, but he didn't pay them any mind. He took to the streets, and oh no, this was such a terrible idea. He found himself swerving around cars in a panic, struggling not to get run over as Johnny pulled further and further ahead. Why did he think he could follow a freaking motorcycle again?

But luck seemed to be on his side. Star was not making herself an easy hostage. She screamed, slapped, and flailed, and it looked like it took Johnny everything in him to keep her on the bike. Wes could tell his focus wasn't entirely on riding, meaning he wasn't going at top speed. That meant there was a chance.

Redoubling his efforts, Wes shifted to the sidewalk, hoping to gain on Johnny while he was divided between Star and the road. But the ghost seemed to have similar ideas. He turned sharply, heading straight for a rather tall building. Wes's eyes widened in alarm, and for a split second he was terrified that Johnny was going to run right into it. But the biker dipped backwards into a wheelie, his front tire catching on the wall and pulling him up, scaling the skyscraper like it was a flat road. "Oh, you've got to be kidding me..."

No. No, he had this. He just needed to think of the tree. Yeah, he could do this. Ten feet, ten stories, twenty, what was the difference? If he couldn't fly, he could just do the next best thing instead.

Wes followed after Johnny, floating with everything he had. When he got close to the building, he screwed his eyes shut tight, touched down, and jumped with all his might. He tipped backwards, his feet made contact, and then he was _running._ He dared to open his eyes, and saw a stretch of glass and concrete in front of him, the cloudy sky reaching ahead. He was running. He was running _up._ An elated whoop escaped his lips, and his legs pumped with everything he had. He couldn't believe it. It was just like running on a track. Something like gravity wasn't going to stop him!

And then he looked down. He was high up. Really high up. His foot slipped, and then refused to catch on the concrete surface. And suddenly he was falling, the rooftop that had been close, _so close,_ stretching further and further away. Too fast. His limbs flailed to find purchase, but he was too far, he couldn't reach. He couldn't fly. _He couldn't fly._ And he was falling, he was...

And then he wasn't. Arms hooked themselves beneath him, one under his armpits and the other under the crook of his knees. Wes opened his violet eyes, not realizing he had closed them, and found himself looking up at Phantom, his stony scowl focused skyward. They were flying up, _up_ at speeds that brought tears to Wes's eyes. They could do it. They were going to catch up.

But Shadow was right behind them, and gaining quickly. It hissed angrily, and Danny looked back, then down at Wes. Shadow was at their ankles. Making up his mind, Danny threw Wes upwards, tangling with the dark specter once more. "Get to Star!"

The younger Halfa squealed with fright, but this time his feet found a window, stumbling as he regained his lost traction. This time he didn't dare to look anywhere but straight ahead. Or straight up. Or... He didn't think about it. He could see the edge of the roof, that was all he needed.

And then he was up and over, and he had never been so happy to have flat, solid, horizontal ground beneath him. He took a second to catch his breath, then looked up. Johnny had pulled over on the roof, and looked to be trying to talk Star into committing. "Come on, don't you wanna be my girl? I've got a cool bike, good looks, and I swear I'm a great kisser. What more could you want in a guy?"

"Can't you tell she isn't interested?" Wes called out, hoping his glare was at least a little frightening.

Johnny looked up in surprise. It didn't seem like he'd realized he was being followed. "Huh? Who the heck are you?"

"It doesn't matter who I am," Wes replied, taking a step closer. "Now let her go, and I won't have to hurt you."

"You know, you're really not good at threats," Johnny deadpanned. Star gave another token struggle, but the biker simply held her tight again, revving the engine and driving straight off of the roof.

Wes scrabbled for the edge of the rooftop, arm extended, but then he saw the bike fly away. He stared after it, then let his arm drop to his side. _Great..._ "He drove off the roof!" he called to Phantom on the opposite side.

Danny rose up, at the moment struggling to wrestle Shadow off of his back. "So fly after him!"

" _He drove off the roof!_ "

"I'm sorry, did you want to trade?" Wes opened his mouth, then closed it again, giving Shadow a timid look. "Then you better learn to fly really dang quick!"

"Oh boy..." Wes looked over the edge, watching in dismay as Johnny sped away. And seriously, who came up with a flying motorcycle? That didn't even make sense! No, he needed to focus. Flight. It couldn't be that different from hovering, could it? And if he could run up a freaking skyscraper, then he should be able to hover over open air. Piece of cake.

At least he knew that Phantom could catch him if he messed up.

Letting out a puff of air, Wes backed up, shaking his hands out as he mentally braced himself. He didn't let himself think. He ran, sprinting for the far edge. And then, like an idiot, he jumped.

Okay. Okay okay okay, the ground was coming in fast. Really, really fast. He just needed that speed to go straight ahead, and not straight down. How did Phantom do it? This was terrifying! This was a huge mistake, he should have let Danny handle it. But if _he_ thought Wes could do it, then the answer couldn't have been that hard, could it? What was he missing? The tail? Was it the tail? How did he sprout a tail? God, it was worth a shot. It was the only shot he had, really.

Wes closed his eyes yet again, willing himself to forget for just a moment that he was falling to his death. He focused with all his might, hoping beyond hope that when he opened his eyes, he would have some wispy thing in place of his legs. His hands balled into fists at his sides, bracing for impact with the ground.

But he never collided. He dared to crack an eye open, and found himself floating a good four stories above the busy street. Beneath him twisted a long tail, a black ribbon fringed with the same shade of orange as his hair. It almost reminded him of some sort of eel. He shook his head. It wasn't the time to marvel. He needed to get to Star, and quickly, before Johnny did... whatever he planned to do to her.

Wes sped off, his tail crackling behind him as he tried to catch up with Johnny. He only wished he could go faster, but beggars couldn't be choosers. He'd already done way more than he thought he was capable of.

Behind him, Danny was finally gaining, Shadow nowhere in sight. He caught up to Wes in the blink of an eye, staying just a hair ahead of him. "How you holding up?"

"God, uh... I guess fine?" Wes laughed, bordering on manic. It took everything in him to keep flying straight, to keep the rapid movement of his own tail from throwing him off course. "How the heck did you lose that thing?"

"Somehow it completely slipped my mind that it's weak to light," Danny replied. "But it'll be back if we don't hurry. My guess is that Johnny is trying to take Star to some portal somewhere. We need to get her away from him before he finds one. Come on!" He grabbed Wes's hand, and suddenly they had doubled, no, tripled their previous speed. Wes couldn't even see through the tears he was trying to blink away.

And then they were practically right on top of Johnny. Danny released Wes, who nearly sailed past the bike, so that he could focus his ectoplasmic energy in both hands. He fired, knocking Johnny off of the motorcycle. With no one to drive it, it lost momentum, and then altitude, Star falling down screaming along with it.

Wes didn't even think. He dove down, pushing himself as fast as he could go. But Star wasn't very far to begin with, and he caught her by hooking his arms under hers, the bike falling uselessly to the street below. "Don't worry, I've got you!"

Above them, Danny had pulled out the Fenton Thermos, diving after Johnny. He made quick work of sucking the biker inside, the motorcycle disappearing a moment later. He touched down on the sidewalk, Wes setting down Star right after. She stared at the Halfas uncertainly, then offered them both a smile, if a bit shaky, before running back towards the school.

Phantom crossed his arms, a proud smirk on his face. "Congratulations. You just made your first rescue. How do you feel?"

"That was amazing. Let's never do it again." Wes swayed on his feet, and Danny caught him before he collapsed, dragging him into a nearby alley right as he shifted back. The poor guy was clearly exhausted. He had only ever used the most basic of powers, practicing for moments at a time, and today he'd spent a good fifteen minutes chasing a hostile ghost all over town. Danny was genuinely amazed Wes had lasted as long as he did.

He sighed to himself, taking to the air with the barely conscious teen in his arms. He might as well take the guy home. It had been a long day.

({O})

Danny saw Wes in the hall the next day, staring at the daily paper in awe. The shorter teen strode closer, peeking at the headline.

_**Casper's New Friendly Ghost?** _

_An unknown ghost was spotted just yesterday at the famed Casper High. When a hostage and kidnapping situation occurred at the school, the newcomer took hot pursuit alongside Amity Park's own hero, Phantom. Local eyewitness reports tell us that the hostage was recovered only two miles from Casper High, safe and uninjured. Who is this new spectral entity? Are they a new ally to our town hero? Only time will tell, as we will be watching this stranger's career with great interest._

"Wow, good publicity on your first outing," Danny said dryly. "It took me months to get a good story."

Wes gaped at the article, tiny as it was. Then, he frowned when he caught a glimpse of the photograph. It looked to be a submission a student had taken on their phone. It wasn't too shabby, either, the buildings in the background in crisp high definition. While Phantom and Shadow were the focus of the piece, Wes himself was at the edge of the photograph, just beginning his chase. He was just as clear as the rest of the photo, save for his face, which was barely more than a fuzzy smear. "Pfft. Figures they couldn't have taken a good one."

"Are you kidding? A blurry picture is basically the mark of a true cryptid," Danny joked. And it was almost funny, how quickly Wes's face lit up at the notion.

Danny went on his merry way, smirking as Wes's annoyance morphed into pure glee. He really hadn't done too bad for a ghost with almost no powers in his first battle.

Jazz was right. He really was a quick learner.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So in the end, I wound up making this one a combination of action and lesson. It also ended up being the longest chapter thus far. This was a pretty fun chapter to do, even if it did turn out to be more of an obstacle course than an actual fight, haha.
> 
> The next one is probably going to be a proper flight chapter. Adrenaline does wonders in a pinch, but it's hardly a reliable teaching method. So stay tuned!


	7. Appendage

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay, new chapter! This one is another power chapter, but this time we're addressing something he's already done. Sooooo improvement chapter?
> 
> Also, I finally figured out how to make an em-dash (this thing —). No more breaking up sentences with hyphens for me!

Danny gathered his things from his locker, letting it squeak to a close. He was expected to be in the woods in half an hour, and Wes had already taken off running to get there. He was astonishingly eager to properly master flying, and Danny couldn't blame him. He probably didn't want to keep the guy waiting.

"Where are you off to in such a hurry?" Sam asked as she left her class, Tucker not far behind her. "Got a powerful ghost to duke it out with?"

"Eh, not exactly," Danny replied, slinging his schoolbag over his shoulder. "I was just gonna hit up the old training ground."

"You mean the one in the woods?" inquired Tucker. "You haven't gone there in ages, dude. What gives? You got another power growing in or something? It's been a few months, you're overdue."

"No, it's not for me," Danny chuckled. "Actually, I'm training up a new Halfa."

"A new Halfa?" Tucker parroted. "Please tell me this isn't another Danielle situation."

"No, no, nothing like that," Danny waved him off, his quiet laughter taking on a nervous edge. "This time it was... uh... me, who created the Halfa."

"You _what?!_ " Sam cried out. "Danny, why would you do something like that?! How?!"

"Would you relax?" Danny frowned. "It was either that or let him die. And he's fine now, just... excitable."

Sam was very clearly unhappy with his answer, but she couldn't say she didn't understand. Danny would do anything to protect everyone in the city. Even if his means might not have been very ethical. "...Who is it?"

"Oh, you are _so_ gonna hate me for this," Danny said with a grin that belied his apprehension. He could already sense the goth's oncoming ire. "Come on, maybe you can help train him or something."

"I get the feeling we're all going to regret this," commented Tucker.

({O})

"Wes Weston?!" Sam shouted incredulously. "You turned Wes 'Expose Danny to the World' Weston into a Halfa?!"

"Oh, I see how it is," the subject of the conversation himself deadpanned. "The 'no telling' rule only applies to me. Fenton can tell whoever he wants. Got it."

"Yeah, I don't see this going too well," said Tucker. "Like I said. Regret."

"Sam, Tucker, come on," Danny groaned. "I didn't exactly have much of a choice. Why is everyone acting like this is some horrible thing?"

"Uh, maybe because he's been trying to out you to the whole school for almost a year now?" supplied Sam. Wes frowned, but he couldn't really deny the claim.

"So, what? I should have let him die because he mildly inconvenienced me?" Danny argued. "He had part of a tree sticking out of his chest, what was I supposed to do? Leave him like that?"

"You got impaled?" asked Tucker, horrified.

"Yeah. I did," Wes replied with a grimace. "But I'm basically all healed now, so it's fine."

"...I don't like this," said Sam.

"We know," said Tucker.

"But just this once, I'll ignore the ethical implications since it was to save someone's life," Sam finished. "But next time, just take him to a hospital."

"There won't even be a next time," Danny promised.

"Are we still waiting on Jazz?" asked Wes.

Danny nodded. "She should only be a few more minutes."

And so they waited, with Danny further explaining the situation to Sam and Tucker, while Wes sat on a rock, his leg bouncing a mile a minute. Pretty soon, Jazz found her way to the group, stopping with her hands on her knees to catch her breath. "Sorry I'm late. A student wanted me to quiz them on a history lesson."

"Finally, we can start!" Wes cheered. He jumped in the air, changing with a flash of light and landing in a hover just over a foot above the ground. "We were gonna tackle flying today, right?"

"We were," Jazz confirmed. "But I heard the news from Star. It seems like a certain ghost saved her from a nasty fall two miles away from the school. It sounds to me like you already have a handle on flight."

"No way," Danny countered. "It was a heat of the moment thing. This idiot had to jump off of a skyscraper to get it to work, instead of, you know, getting oriented on the roof to make sure he _could._ I doubt he could do it again without being properly taught how."

"Hey, you're the one who told me to do it!" Wes shouted, pointing an accusing finger.

"Uh, no? I said you better learn to fly so you could get to Star, not to fling yourself off of the freaking building."

"You-!"

"Guys! The lesson?" Jazz pleaded. "You can bicker about who said what later."

Sam and Tucker made their way to a nearby tree, both of them kicking back against it. "You know what? This might be fun to watch," commented Tucker.

"Danny's stalker making a complete fool of himself? Count me in," Sam agreed.

Wes huffed and crossed his arms, not caring that he was slowly twisting upside down. "You guys really think I can't do it, huh? I'll show you I know what I'm doing."

"Right," Danny laughed. "You can barely regulate your center of gravity. I mean, look at you!"

"...This is on purpose."

"Okay, fine. If you're so good at it, then flying shouldn't be an issue," said Danny, putting his hands on his hips. "Show me how you can do it without the threat of impending peril." Jazz sighed, sitting down with her hands cupping her chin. She may as well let them get their bickering out of the way.

Wes puffed out his cheeks, eyes briefly flashing a pale red, before righting himself. He took in a steadying breath to calm himself, then focused. After some time, his legs twisted together, melding and shifting until in their place was his tail, the tip twirling and twisting against the ground.

"...Alright, great. You can summon your tail just fine," Danny conceded. "That's a start."

"I've been practicing," Wes said, proudly puffing out his chest.

"You're still touching, dude!" Tucker called out, pointing at the tail that was very much making tiny figure eights in the grass.

Wes scowled. "Well, it's kinda long, okay? And it won't be touching anything when I'm in the air anyway."

"So get to it," harrumphed Danny. "Show us what you can do."

Wes faltered. It was true that he could summon his tail with relative ease, but he hadn't actually practiced flying. He didn't want to risk losing control and falling without Danny there as a safeguard. Ghost or not, a face full of asphalt or dirt would not be a fun experience.

The young Halfa recalled the feeling of sailing through the air— it seemed that most ghost powers were associated with a sensation rather than a thought or action— but he didn't push it. The last thing he needed was to go careening into a tree at top speed. He needed to take it slow. But despite his wishes, he shot up in a short spurt, writhing in the air for a moment, then lost his momentum and plummeted. "Ow!"

Danny had to raise his hands to his mouth to muffle a snort, but Sam and Tucker didn't bother hiding their raucous laughter. Even Jazz was fighting off an amused smirk. "Pfft, what the heck was that?!" Danny guffawed.

Wes sat up, his face a luminous shade of magenta. "Sh-Shut up! I was... I was just warming up! That's all!"

"Then try again," singsonged Danny, obviously not buying it.

Wes huffed angrily, then floated back up to his natural height. His second attempt resulted in another crash landing, and his third was no different. By his fourth, Jazz was the only one who wasn't howling with laughter. "St... Stop laughing at me!" Wes shouted.

Tucker was the first to reign in his chortling, wiping a stray tear from his eye. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, it's just so funny to see you— oh my god, guys, look at him blush!" The hysterical cachinnation started up all over again, as sure enough, Wes's very aura was changing to match his furious blush. He cried out in frustration, quickly turning himself invisible so that everyone would stop looking at him.

"Guys, we're supposed to be helping him, not laughing at him!" Jazz reprimanded them, making her way to where she had last seen the Halfa and crossing her arms at the group. "The goal here is to help him get a handle on his powers, not make fun of him when he gets it wrong!"

"Come on, I had flying down pat days after I transformed," said Danny, still clutching his stomach.

"Well, Wes isn't you, and he isn't going to learn everything at the same pace as you," Jazz countered. "Especially not if you tease him instead of showing him how to do it."

"Ugh, fine," Danny whined, rolling his eyes. He transformed, transitioning into a hover himself. "Wes, come on. I can't show you how to fly if I can't properly see you." It took a few seconds, but Wes slowly slipped into view, his blush still present but his aura thankfully back to a normal shade of blue. "Alright, now to figure out where you're going wrong here."

"I don't even know," Wes told him, glaring at his own tail. "I was doing just fine on Wednesday, but now I can't get more than a few feet without flinging myself around."

"Maybe you're moving your tail too much," Sam supplied. "It was moving a lot when you tried to fly. Maybe if you try to keep it more still you'll have an easier time."

"Yeah," Danny agreed, summoning his own tail. It wobbled at a leisurely pace, moving more like smoke than an actual tail. "Mine barely moves at all, and I get around just fine."

"Keep it more still? Well, I guess it's worth a try," Wes hummed quietly. He glowered at his tail, but even floating in place, it continued to writhe and twist. "...I don't know if I can stop it."

"Sure you can. Maybe you just gotta get yourself in the air first," Danny suggested. "Mine kinda straightens out on its own when I get moving."

The young Halfa frowned, not quite believing something like that would work. But he figured Danny knew what he was talking about. He would say it wouldn't hurt to try, but he didn't really believe that, either. He did as he was requested, giving himself some more height, but his tail refused to slow down. He threw himself to the grass, just like before. To Danny's credit, he only snorted once.

"...It didn't work."

"Yeah, I can see that," Danny chuckled.

Wes huffed, dusting himself off. "I just don't get what I'm doing wrong!"

"Well, you were able to fly before, right?" Jazz spoke up. "Can you think of anything that might have been different between then and now?"

"Adrenaline," Danny piped up.

Wes glared at him for a moment, before his expression morphed into something more thoughtful. "...Actually, maybe? I was so focused on saving Star, I wasn't even thinking about how I was flying."

"So just go for it," said Tucker. "Don't overthink the technique. You know you can do it, so just do it."

It was as good a suggestion as any. Wes sighed, resigning himself to the fact that he was very likely to crash-land again. But he tried simply rising, without thinking about how he was doing it, hard as it was. He was met with the same results as every other attempt, spitting out clumps of dirt.

"At this point, this is less funny and more sad," said Sam.

"Why is this so hard for me?!" Wes cried out, trying to kick at the ground before remembering he didn't have legs. That only worked him up more. He ran his fingers through his hair, tail slithering behind him as he paced. "Everything else came to me so quickly! Maybe it doesn't always come easy, but I can change, and I can turn invisible, and I can run through a freaking wall if I want to! So why is it that the moment I try to pace myself I can't do anything?!"

"Pace yourself?" Jazz asked.

"Yes! I don't want to get three hundred feet in the air just to fall to my freaking death! I need to learn how to do this before I go flying off, right?!"

Danny pinched the bridge of his nose. "...Wes, oh my god."

The frustrated Halfa furrowed his brows. "What?"

"Just take my hand."

Knowing that a proper lesson was to be had, Wes took it without question. And suddenly the trees were far below them, and getting further away. Wes yelped and squirmed, but Danny held fast. In mere seconds, their small clearing in the woods was barely a speck of green. Only then did Danny stop, releasing Wes's hand. The redhead plummeted a good two or three feet before catching himself. "What the heck are you doing?!"

"I'm showing you how much of an idiot you're being," Danny replied. He pointed to his right. "Now fly that way as fast as you can."

"Are you crazy?!" Wes squealed. "I can't fly, that's the whole problem!"

"You're already up here, and if you fall I'll catch you. Just go that way. Top speed. I'll be right behind you." Wes gaped like a fish out of water, but Danny crossed his arms, obviously unwilling to hear any argument. The newer Halfa clamped his mouth shut, looking out to the distance. He tried not to think about how far down the ground was, instead balling his fists and willing himself to _go._

Wes was off like a rocket, his tail snapping as it propelled him forwards. He yelped at the sudden acceleration, his arms out to his sides in a vain attempt to help him balance as his form wobbled uncontrollably. He feared that he would throw himself one direction or the other, but amazingly, he remained airborne. He was hardly flying straight; his tail thrashed in a manner that made that almost impossible. But he was still _flying._ A grin spread across his face, and he whooped, his arms shooting straight up. But then he dipped dangerously, so he kept them straight to his sides. Somehow, that helped.

True to his word, Danny was right behind him, appearing in the corner of Wes's eye. "See? You do know what you're doing after all."

Wes turned his head slightly, worried that moving it too much would throw him off course, but wanting to get a better look at Danny. "Yeah... Yeah, you're right! I guess I do!"

"Now I want you to try slowing down," Danny instructed. "But not all at once. I need you to do it gradually."

Wes nodded, and did as he was told, slowly cutting back on his speed. But once he got closer to half speed, he found it harder to control his flight pattern. At half again, he flailed listlessly before plummeting.

But Danny was there to catch him, letting Wes regain his bearings before releasing him. But the Halfa didn't look shocked. Only thoughtful. "...Start flying again. But this time, try stopping all at once."

"You just like watching me fail, don't you," Wes scowled.

"No, no, I have an actual point here. Just do it."

Wes frowned, not totally buying the excuse, but he did it anyway. He shot forwards, maintaining his top speed for a few moments before screeching to a halt. His tail briefly snapped in front of him, before settling down below him. But he hadn't fallen, and he hadn't gone careening into anything. "...Oh."

"Huh, maybe that was the problem after all," Danny hummed. "It wasn't that you couldn't fly. It's just that you can't fly slow."

"...Well, that seems like a weird limitation, doesn't it?" Wes deadpanned.

Danny shrugged. "Your tail moves a lot more than mine does. It doesn't matter much when you're going fast enough, but if you go too slow, you're just gonna end up throwing yourself into things. Maybe it'll get easier with time, but for now you're gonna have to ditch the tail if you wanna slow down."

Wes thought about that for a moment. "...You know what? I think I can handle that."

"Great. Let's head back and let everyone know you didn't crash and burn." The two turned around, this time with Danny leading the way back to the woods. Wes followed with little trouble, and the pair soon landed in the clearing, where Jazz, Sam, and Tucker were still waiting.

"Cool, he didn't die," Tucker joked.

"None of you have any faith in me," Wes huffed.

"I had faith in you," said Jazz. Wes harrumphed and smirked.

"It turns out this numskull can't go less than like, twenty miles an hour without flinging himself all over the place," Danny said, jerking a thumb over his shoulder. "He was just trying to go too slow."

"You're kidding me," Sam chuckled.

"That... actually makes some sort of sense," admitted Jazz. "Well, if you figured out a minimum speed, did you find out what his top speed is?"

Danny paused, then looked at Wes. "That was as fast as you could go, right?" The young Halfa nodded. "So I would guess... sixty, maybe seventy miles?"

"So, barely half of your starting speed," said Tucker.

"Hey, seventy isn't too bad!" Wes challenged. "That means I could go on the highway if I wanted to!"

"I think we should call it quits for today," Danny cut in, changing as he did so. "Too much flying too early is just gonna tucker you out. And besides, you've got a handle on the basics, I think. I doubt you need me to teach you anything else unless a new power crops up."

"What?!" Wes exclaimed. "But you've barely taught me anything! What about lasers, or that weird scream you do, or that thing you did where there was two of you?!"

"We don't even know if you can do any of that," Danny countered. "And even if you could, my powers didn't exactly show up all at once. It's going to take time for your core to develop enough to handle that kind of strain. So we'll tackle it when we get to it."

"...But I-"

"Let it go, Wes. I don't have anything else to teach you right now."

Wes opened his mouth to argue, then closed it, puffing out his cheeks angrily. "..Fine. Then I'll just figure things out for myself." Before Danny could say anything, Wes took off, flying back towards Amity Park.

"...You think you should keep an eye on him?" Sam asked uncertainly.

Danny waved off the notion. "I'm not too worried about it, he probably just wants to get home and practice. But if he gets himself into trouble, that's on him."

"...And if that happens you're not gonna stop him?" added Tucker.

"Of course I am. But he's gonna be fine, you'll see."

Jazz sighed quietly. "I hope you're right, little brother."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Man, this chapter really ran on. It kinda fought me this whole time, but at least it's out now, haha.
> 
> The next chapter is probably gonna be pretty Wes-centric, but I don't have a set idea. We'll see how that one goes!


	8. The Little Things

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here comes chapter 8! This is sort of another "get a feel for Wes" chapter, establishing some of his more research-oriented tendencies. So kind of a lot is going on here. Enjoy!

"Stupid Fenton. Stupid Fenton and his stupid teacher act."

Wes stormed into his house, not worrying about how much noise he made. His dad wouldn't be home for several hours yet. He stomped across the house to his room, slamming the door and throwing himself backwards onto his bed. "Who does he think he is, turning me into a ghost and then not showing me how to do all the cool ghost stuff?"

He understood why Danny had put a stop to their training sessions. Really, he did. Wes already knew how to use the powers he had, to some extent. At the moment, there wasn't much more Danny could teach him. But surely that didn't mean they couldn't have kept practicing? His core was supposed to get stronger over time, right? That meant there would be a lot of room for improvement, and therefore a need to constantly work on his powers.

...Maybe that was it? Did Danny want him to practice more on his own before returning to proper training? The other Halfa likely hadn't had anyone to teach him, if his prior comment about a general lack of Halfas was anything to go by. Not to mention that Amity Park had a marked shortage of friendly ghosts. And yet, Danny had gotten so much stronger in such a short amount of time. Maybe training alone had something to do with that? Maybe Danny wanted him to do his own learning, figure out what he could do by himself?

Wes sat up, a thoughtful frown on his face. He didn't know what kind of powers he had, outside of what ghosts were universally capable of. Frankly, there was a lot he didn't know about ghosts in general. But he had his fair share of theories. And now, he had the means to actually test them out.

And he already had an idea of where to start.

Wes climbed off of the bed, rummaging through the organized chaos on top of his desk. Eventually he found what he was looking for: a small handheld digital camera. He turned it on, checking the battery and memory card before nodding in satisfaction, turning the device towards himself.

"...My name is Wesley Weston, and the date is November 4th, 2005. I am recording this, not to show anyone, but to keep record of my findings. So if you're seeing this, I'm probably dead... Or maybe I've just been exposed. Both are equally plausible. Actually, that first part might be kinda true. Because one week ago today, I became half ghost. A Halfa.

"I can't tell you how, or why, because it isn't just my safety on the line. But I have actual, real life ghost powers now. So to all you nonbelievers who said ghosts couldn't possibly exist, I say ha!" With that, Wes transformed, fixing the camera with a determined stare. He could already see on the screen that, while everything from the neck down was crisp and clean, his face remained indistinct, out of focus. So it wasn't just the newspaper, then. "As you can see, the camera isn't able to focus on my face, even with the field of depth set with me in mind. This might actually be something specific to me. I at least haven't seen it happen with any other ghosts. I'll have to use my own camera to find out for sure."

Wes changed back, and the focus immediately sharpened on his face once more. "Today, I'm going to be addressing different theories about ghost physiology. Since I just recently became a ghost, I can prove or disprove these theories myself, and know the results are reliable and true. And I plan to start with signs of vitality. I recognize that my results might not be totally universal, since I'm not a full ghost, but doing this should give me a starting point, should I ever get my hands on a proper ghost.

"The first thing I can tell you is that there's still color in my cheeks, and I can still bleed. This implies that I do still have a heartbeat. But I don't know how fast it is. If my hypothesis is correct, my heart rate should be slower than an average human. I must also take into consideration that I work out regularly, so my heart rate is going to be slow at rest to begin with. Therefore, I theorize that my actual heart rate will be roughly fifteen beats per minute."

Wes held two fingers to the side of his neck, going quiet for just a moment. His pulse thrummed under his skin, gentle but lively. His brows furrowed as he mentally counted out the beats. After about six seconds, he pulled his fingers away, giving the camera a curious look. "...So I was wrong. Just now, I measured about eighty beats per minute. So not only is it faster than I expected, it's close to double what it was when I was still human... I don't know why, but I'll be sure to do more tests periodically. Heart rates do change frequently, after all."

Wes cleared his throat. "Anyway. Another thing I wanted to figure out was whether or not I need to breathe. Ghosts were never alive as we understand it to begin with, and therefore don't require oxygen, outside of what's needed to be able to speak. I'm still alive, I'm pretty sure, but I imagine my need for oxygen is lower than what it originally was. Then again, if my heart rate's gone up, I may actually need more... So I'll time myself." The redhead disappeared off camera, returning seconds later with a stopwatch. "I'm going to start once I'm holding my breath. When I can't hold it anymore, I'll let go of the button, and show you the time." He revealed the dial set to zero to show he wasn't giving himself a head start. "My record is a minute twenty-three. Let's see if I do better or worse."

He sucked in an enormous breath, cheeks puffed out, then held down the button. He kept his eyes glued to the stopwatch, watching as the seconds ticked by. Ten, twenty, thirty... He quickly reached the one minute mark, and his lungs hadn't even started to itch yet. He flashed the camera a thumbs-up with his free hand. After that, he started counting the minutes rather than seconds. He finally grew mildly uncomfortable at six minutes. At ten, his chest started to burn. At thirteen, spots were creeping in at the corners of his eyes. When he started to sway where he sat, he finally inhaled again, releasing his hold on the button as he did so. Once he no longer felt like he was going to collapse, he dared a look at the stopwatch, his eyes bugging out of his skull.

"...N... Nineteen minutes, and... forty-one seconds... Incredible! I wasn't expecting my time to improve that much! Imagine how long I could hold my breath if I actually practiced!" He laughed airily, then gawked at his camera. "...Low battery already? This thing was at like half charge, I thought... Well. I guess I'll just have to pick this back up tomorrow. Wes Weston, Paranormal Investigator, out."

With that, Wes closed up his camera, locating its charger and plugging it in next to his bed. He laid down on top of the mattress, grinning at the ceiling. He didn't want to wait until tomorrow. But he didn't have much choice. So he spent the rest of the evening brainstorming even more theories to test out when he woke up.

Not that he actually slept.

({O})

The next time Wes turned on his camera, he was in the woods on the edge of town. "Wes Weston here. It is now November 5th, 2005. I have a full charge, and I'm gonna use it to try to replicate the powers of other ghosts. You see, every ghost has a... a theme of some sort. And frankly, I have no idea what mine is. Still, some ghosts are able to copy the powers of other ghosts, whether that power suits their theme or not. For example, Technus can hijack Skulker's weapons, which makes sense because both use technology. But Phantom developed cryokinesis a lot like Klemper's a few months ago, even though he's got more of a... superhero thing going on. I've done quite a bit of research on the local paranormal activity, so my hope is that I can do the same."

Wes transformed, his form once again going blurry on the screen. "Before I do that, though, I'm gonna measure my heartbeat again. I want to see if being in my ghost form actually changes anything." Just like the previous day, he held his fingers to his neck. "...Funny. I think my pulse actually got stronger. It's definitely faster, I measured around one-ten this time. Maybe it's because I just walked here, but man, that feels backwards."

He shook his head. "Anyway, powers. Most ghosts can shoot a beam out of their hands or eyes. The beam changes depending on the ghost, but it looks like most are capable of shooting _something._ Maybe, if I can pull it off, it'll give me an idea on what my other powers are like. See that tree over there?" Wes pointed at something off-screen, turning his camera a second later for the imaginary audience to see. "I'm gonna be aiming at that tree. Let's see if I can do anything to it."

Wes sucked in a breath, held it, and released it. He set down the camera, far enough back that both he and the tree were in view. He raised both hands, concentrating with all his might. "Come on, come on..."

Nothing happened at first, which was about what he had expected. But then, to his amazement, his aura slowly began to grow brighter. His eyes narrowed, and sweat began beading on his brow. He could hear blood roaring in his ears, but he refused to lose focus. Something stirred deep within him, a low thrum in time with his heartbeat, but he didn't waver. And still his aura increased in intensity, higher and higher.

And then, abruptly, it died.

"...Huh?"

Wes gaped, then looked at his shaking hands, and back at the tree. He'd felt... _something,_ but the tree was still standing. He hadn't actually fired anything, that much he was sure of. But what _had_ happened? He checked himself over, trying to see if anything was different, but nothing had visibly changed. That strange feeling in his chest dulled and settled, despite his attempts to cling to it. Whatever that was, it was gone.

He scrambled back to the camera, picking it up in a rush. "Okay. Okay, so the tree is fine. I don't know what I did, it wasn't a laser. And I can't bring whatever that was back, I tried. Maybe I'm just not ready for lasers quite yet." He grinned at the camera. "But I'll definitely be trying again soon.

"Okay. Next." Wes clapped his hands together. "So some ghosts seem to be in multiple places at once. You see it a lot with smaller or more animal-based ghosts, which might actually be some sort of species thing. But some, like Plasmius, have been known to actually clone themselves. So I'm gonna give it a shot. Fingers crossed!"

Wes shook his arms out, then screwed his eyes shut, focusing with everything he had. After several seconds of uneventful silence, he put his fingertips to his temples, but it didn't help. Even his aura remained unchanged. Eventually, he sighed, opening his eyes again. "...Well, it looks like that one was a dud. But that's okay! Because I have something else I want to try!"

The young Halfa picked up the camera, walking deeper into the woods. "It's basically common knowledge around here that ghosts are way stronger than humans are. Way more than they look like they should be. I'm talking demolishing buildings and bench-pressing cars kind of strong. And hey, I already work out a lot. I don't think I mentioned that yet. So this should be a cinch for me now!" Eventually, he came upon a decently sized rock, coming up just under his waist. "There, this looks like a good way to warm up, huh? Let's give this a shot."

Wes set the camera down once again, spitting into his hands and rubbing them together. He spread his feet shoulder width apart and crouched, hooking his fingers under the lip of the boulder. He heaved, his toes digging grooves in the dirt as he struggled to lift it up. But it didn't budge. He redoubled his efforts, his face going red, and then purple. The rock held fast.

One moment he was lightheaded with exertion, and the next he found himself spread-eagled, staring at the sky between the branches hanging overhead. He blinked a few times, wondering when he had ended up on his back. He sat up slowly, cradling his head when it throbbed in protest. After a taking a second to regain his bearings, he pulled his hand away, taking note of the fact that the freckles on his hand were a light reddish-brown, not the sickly green he was expecting. He'd changed back without realizing it. "...Did I just... pass out? From _lifting?_ "

Wes flushed, spotting and reaching for his camera. 18 percent. The battery must have been shot if it was already running low. It was an older camera, he could probably stand to replace the battery. He frowned, and without a word, he closed the display and shut it off.

({O})

When Wes started recording the following morning, he was sitting in his room, already in his ghost form. His shoulders were slumped, and bags were forming under his eyes, but he was smiling happily. "Morning. Wes again, and it's November 6th, 2005. It is 9:42 in the morning, and I have been holding this form for seven hours and three minutes. I'm _really_ freaking tired right now, and I don't know if that's because of core exhaustion, or the fact that I have not slept in two days. So I will be trying this again at a later date. But I'm not changing back yet, because I want to try one last thing before I try to get some sleep.

"So. I was thinking about other ghost powers, and I thought I'd covered the basics already. But then I remembered that ghost isn't the only technical term for these creatures. Specter. Wraith. Spirit. Poltergeist. All are basically synonymous, but each has their own implications of the nature of what they are. And I figured, hey, poltergeists are known for moving the objects around them, right? Of course, I can easily do that just by turning invisible and picking something up. But what if I could do it... with my mind? That's right, I'm talking telekinesis."

Wes reached off camera for something, fumbling sluggishly, before showing the audience an apple. "See this? I'm gonna set it down across the room, and I'm gonna see if I can pick it up, or make it move, all without touching it." He got up to place the apple, then adjusted the camera so that it could see both him and the fruit. He stood at the opposite end of the room, blinking tiredly before taking a deep breath.

The Halfa started with a fierce stare, willing the apple to move. Naturally, it didn't, so he extended a hand towards it. It still didn't budge. He put his free hand to his temple, grunting and groaning with effort. But no matter how hard he tried, the apple remained motionless on his desk.

So focused was he, that he didn't hear footsteps coming down the hall until it was too late. His door swung open, and he froze. In the doorway stood his father, already dressed in his work attire save for his shoes and an undone tie, looking just as stunned as Wes.

"...Who are you?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Am I going to leave you guys right here? Why, yes. Yes I am.


	9. Discovered

Wes froze. His father was staring at him with wide eyes, a mix of wariness and confusion on his face. This wasn't good. "Um..."

"Who are you?" Walter repeated, "and why are you in my son's room?" His eyes darted to and fro, then lit up in horror. "...Where is he?"

Definitely not good. Wes held up a placating hand, the other moving to turn off the camera. It seemed he had no choice but to come clean. "Look, I can explain-"

"Where is he?" Walter demanded again, taking a single step backwards. It looked as if he was going to run, but Wes knew he kept a small ectogun in a drawer by his nightstand, in case of situations like this. Many citizens of Amity Park owned one, and his father was no exception. "What did you do to my son?"

"Nothing!" Wes blurted out, eyes flicking to an anxious violet. "It's... It's me!"

That made Walter pause. He narrowed his eyes, studying the ghost before him. After a few seconds, he shook his head. "...No, don't lie to me. I would be able to recognize my own son. What did you do to him? _Where is he?_ "

A part of Wes's heart sank at that, but he should have expected that he would be unidentifiable, even to his own dad. But that didn't mean it didn't hurt. "...I can show you. I can prove that it's me."

But Walter wasn't having it. He took another step back, then two. And then he was running back down the hallway. Wes groaned, tugging at his hair, then ran through the wall, passing through the bathroom before ending up in his dad's room. Walter then breached the doorway, skidding to a halt with a terrified gasp upon seeing the ghost already there. Even though he had a good four inches over Wes, right then, he looked so much smaller. He was trying so hard to be strong for his son, his son who he thought had become the victim of a ghost attack, but he was scared. It was clear as day on his face. It physically pained Wes to look at him.

"...Please, dad. It really is me, and I can show you. Just... please promise you won't shoot at me?" Walter didn't reply, but he hardly looked capable of speaking anyway. He didn't even look like he could stand up, braced against the doorframe like he was. And Wes was the one making him so afraid. Perhaps it really would be better to get it over with, if only so his father would stop looking at him with those eyes.

Wes sighed wearily, closing his eyes. It took almost no effort for him to revert back to his human form. He nearly fell to his knees as a wave of exhaustion overtook him, but he managed to remain standing. Only when he was sure he wasn't going to collapse did he open his eyes again.

Walter was staring. His expression was difficult to make out, a number of emotions subtly flickering across his face. Settling for cautious bafflement, he slowly straightened out, using the doorframe to assist him. "...Wes? But you... I don't..."

Wes kept his eyes glued to the ground, wringing his hands nervously. He was terrified that the fear would still be there when he looked up. "...Dad... I'm a ghost... Half ghost, technically, but..."

"...How?" Walter asked, his voice wobbling ever so slightly. "How did this happen? When?"

"A little over a week ago," Wes answered quietly. "I got caught in the middle of a ghost fight, and..." He didn't understand why he was suddenly so nervous to put everything out there. He'd wanted to tell his father from the beginning. They never liked to keep secrets from each other. But it had felt safer not to say anything. And yet now, when he was finally forced to tell him... "...Phantom saved me. I couldn't tell you how, but he turned me into a ghost, and that saved my life."

"...Saved you? Phantom?" Wes could understand why it would be so hard to grasp. It was a lot to take in at once. "The ghost kid? But... But if he turned you into a ghost, wouldn't that mean you...?"

Walter didn't have to finish that sentence for Wes to know what he meant. "Dad, no, no, I'm alive. Look at me, I'm right here!"

"But you're... You're a ghost...!" Walter choked out, once again looking like his knees were about to give out.

"Only half, I'm... Look, I can prove it. Come here. Please?" Wes held out one hand, wrist upturned. Walter glanced him up and down, at his son who was all eye bags and mussed hair, his son who looked dead on his feet as it was. His son, who had suffered from a life-threatening experience without his knowledge, one that evidently resulted in him becoming a ghost. How could he claim to be alive after that? But he said he could offer proof, and Walter wanted so, so strongly to believe him. So he walked forwards on shaky legs, swallowing thickly as he eyed the offered hand.

Wes held his wrist up more insistently, his eyes practically pleading with his father. Walter pursed his lips, finally recognizing the request for what it was. He lightly grasped his son's wrist, his thumb resting on top. He concentrated, and his breath hitched when he found what he was looking for. Wes's pulse thrummed, the beats rapid and lively. His heart, it was still beating. Wes was a ghost, but his heart was _beating._

Walter melted with relief, pulling his son into a tight embrace. His eyes screwed shut as he tried not to cry. "You're alive," he breathed. "You're alive..."

Wes sniffled, letting out a tense, shaky breath he hadn't realized he was holding. "Yeah... I am..."

The two lost track of how long they held each other, but after some time, they both calmed down enough to part, Walter's hands on his son's shoulders. "...Why did you not tell me sooner? I almost... I would have shot at you."

Wes wiped an arm across his eyes, keeping his head ducked low. "...It was too dangerous to tell you. Not that I didn't trust you, but... it isn't just my secret. If I told anyone, it would hurt him, too."

"Him? Do you mean Phantom?"

The Halfa closed his mouth, frowning. "...I can't say. The government could be listening."

Walter smirked at that, ruffling his son's hair. "Come on, champ. You already checked all the electronics in the house for bugs last month. I'm sure we're in the clear."

That pulled a chuckle out of Wes, leaning into the touch. "I know, I know. But I still worry." His expression sobered. "...If I tell you, you have to promise not to tell anybody. If anybody finds out I'm a Halfa, or what Phantom has to do with it, it could put us all in danger."

Walter knew that his son was a paranoid individual. He was always afraid of eavesdroppers, of government agents gleaning all sorts of information from them. And he had the tendency to assume everyone had secrets to hide, secrets oftentimes supernatural in nature. Occasionally he was right, more often than not he wasn't. But this... This was something that could hold real consequences. They lived in a town that was home to the most trigger-happy ghost hunters in the country, and was regularly visited by other professionals in the field. And one group, he knew, happened to be a government agency that specialized in ghosts. Walter shuddered to think what any of those people would do to his son, should they learn his secret.

"...I promise. I won't tell a soul."

Wes sucked in a breath, held it, and let it out. It still took a moment for him to begin speaking. And once he did, he couldn't stop. He told his father about how he had followed Phantom, trying to collect more evidence of him being Danny Fenton. How a stray shot from Skulker downed a tree. How Wes wasn't able to get away from it in time. He told him how Phantom had found him, and brought him to the Fenton Portal. How the sheer amount of ectoplasmic energy had changed him, and how it allowed him to regenerate quickly enough to overcome his wounds. How Phantom... Danny... has been training him how to use his newfound powers since, so that he could hide safely.

"And that's what I was doing when you came in," Wes finished. "I was trying to see if I had any other ghost powers."

Walter was silent for a long while, his mouth hanging open. "...That's... How could I not know you've been through so much? How did I not notice any of this? That my own son..."

"Dad, it's okay," Wes assured him. "I hid it from you. You weren't supposed to find out. At least... not like this." He stared at the floor, hands balling up in his shorts. "...I'm sorry for scaring you. But if you're still scared, that's... I get it. I really do."

Walter's expression softened, and he pulled his son into another embrace. "Wesley, of course I'm not scared of you. You're still the same boy I raised. Even if you were a vampire, or a unicorn, or a slimy swamp monster, I would still love you just the same."

It wasn't the first time his dad had assured him in such a way, but it was clear he meant every word he said. Wes smiled a watery smile, leaning into the hug. He hummed quietly, one hand rubbing at his eyes before he released a barely-stifled yawn.

Walter held Wes at arms-length, studying him with a stern eye. "...Wesley. When was the last time you got some sleep?"

Wes shrugged noncommittally. "Two nights ago."

"What have I told you about sleeping every night?" Walter scolded him.

"I know, I know. But how am I supposed to sleep when there's still so much for me to learn? I have so much ghost material I can study now!"

"Wesley Arnold Weston," Walter chided lightly, only for his phone to start ringing. They both jumped, and the parent fished his phone out of his pocket, groaning when he saw the contact info. "Oh no... It's a call from work, I need to go." His thumb hovered over the answer button, and he got to his feet, shooting one last glance at Wes. "Make sure to get a nap in while I'm gone, and get to bed at a reasonable hour. You have school tomorrow."

"Ugh, _fiiine,_ " Wes whined, rolling his eyes. Satisfied with the brash answer, Walter smiled, answering the phone and balancing it between his cheek and shoulder as he left the room, struggling with his tie.

Wes stood in his father's room for a long time, well after he'd left the house in a rush. He let out a shaky laugh, fingers carding through his hair. That definitely could have gone better, but he was relieved it hadn't been way, way worse. Despite the rocky start, he felt lighter than he had since waking up in the portal. He hadn't realized how much keeping the secret had weighed on him. Now that the person closest to him knew, he felt like he could breathe easy.

Wes trudged towards his room, his body finally beginning to succumb to exhaustion. He crawled on top of his bed, not bothering to change into anything more comfortable, and fell into a deep but fitful slumber.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't usually do well with these kinds of chapters, but by god it needed to be done. Overall I think it went well. I would very much like to think that Wes and Walter are really close. We need more positive parent-child relationships in media, dangit.
> 
> The next chapter is going to be an interesting one to write. I want to try involving basketball, but I don't actually know much about it besides the basics. We'll just see what happens. XD


	10. Dunk

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this chapter was a bit of a wait. I may or may not be trying to make a 3D Wes model in Blender that's turning out to be a real hassle. XD Also this chapter is pretty long, the longest so far.
> 
> You wouldn't believe the amount of research I did to ensure this chapter made sense. I know barely anything about basketball, but I did learn a lot (probably more than I needed to, honestly), so we'll see how things play out!

Wes didn't get much sleep that night. The nap was partly to blame, no doubt, but restlessness and his ever-active mind kept him up until the wee hours of the morning. When he dragged himself out of bed with roughly two hours of sleep, he trudged to the kitchen to brew himself a pot of his dad's coffee. Usually he avoided it like the plague. He hated the taste, and it was just as likely to make him more drowsy as it was to leave him bouncing off the walls, but he could hardly imagine going to school as drained as he was. He could stand the occasional bout of jitters if it meant he didn't pass out halfway through first period.

The caffeine presented itself as both a blessing and a curse. Thankfully, Wes was able to get through the day without nodding off. Unfortunately, as expected, he could hardly sit still. On more than one occasion he had to force his hands to his lap to physically stop his leg from bouncing. By the last class of the day, he found himself glancing at the clock almost constantly. Sleep deprivation all but forgotten, he could hardly wait for basketball practice, where he would finally get to burn some of his pent-up energy.

When the bell rang, the jock was the first out of the room, barely pausing by his locker to toss his books inside before he was running for the gym. He swerved around students that were still filing out after P.E., skidding to a stop in front of Ms. Tetslaff. He grinned sheepishly, while the teacher raised a brow with a proud grin. "Looks like someone's ready to go. I like your spunk today, kid!"

Over the next few minutes, Wes bounced impatiently as the rest of his team made their way into the gym. Once everyone was present, Tetslaff ordered the students to the benches. "Alright everybody, listen up! We got ourselves a big game on Thursday against Lucy-Muir High School, and we aren't about to be beat by those pansies! So for the next three days I better not see any slacking from any of you!"

Wes immediately perked up at that. He hadn't been able to play against another team in weeks; he'd had to miss the game against St. Elm High after his... accident. But now, he was more than ready to play, and he could stand to stretch his legs.

The next few days went by in a blur. Wes put his all into their practice sessions, even as Tetslaff threatened to work them to the bone. And yet, as the days wore on, he found himself getting more and more restless. Wes chalked it up to nervous energy. He hoped it stuck around for the game; maybe it would help with his footwork.

The jock left the gym Wednesday afternoon, somehow still feeling pumped despite how sore and sweaty he was. He stopped by the locker room to hit up the showers, then headed for his personal locker to grab his things. As he reached inside for his backpack, his ghost sense jolted up his spine, and he hit his head on the roof of his locker in his surprise. Rubbing his sore noggin, he looked around for any signs of a ghostly threat, but couldn't pick up any of the usual sights or sounds indicating a ghost attack. Maybe a neutral specter was just passing by...?

No sooner did he think that than a classroom door a short ways down the hallway opened. Mr. Lancer walked out and stepped aside, arms crossed, soon after followed by none other than Danny. Judging by the stern but tired glare on the teacher's face, the teen had probably been sitting through yet another detention. One that hadn't been interrupted by a ghost attack, apparently.

"I would say I hope you've learned your lesson," Lancer was saying, "but I think you and I both know you'll be back here next week."

"Good to know you have so much faith in me," Danny joked. The English teacher sniffed wearily, turning and leaving without another word. Danny made to leave the building as well, but Wes called out to him.

"Got stuck in detention again, huh? What was it this time? Too many pretend bathroom breaks? Drool all over another exam?"

"Oh, hardy har har," Danny deadpanned, turning to face him. "I'll have you know he caught Dash shoving me against a locker, and figured I somehow started it. Good old favoritism."

"Well, that's lame," Wes snorted in agreement. Then he hummed thoughtfully, shifting foot to foot. "...Well, hey, while you're here I wanna ask you something. I kinda have a game tomorrow, and... I dunno, I thought maybe you would wanna come watch? I know we aren't really friends or anything, but... you know."

Danny blinked, taken aback by the offer. "Really? Oh, um... Thanks, but I've never really been much of a sports kind of guy. Sorry." It seemed to be the kind of answer Wes expected; Danny never went to any of the school's games, outside of the occasional mandatory "spirit game" during school hours, but he had never particularly enjoyed them. Still, there was something about Wes's resigned expression that gave Danny pause. After some deliberation, he sighed. "...What time does it start? I can see about getting my patrol done early or something."

Wes straightened out at that, eyes wide and hopeful. "...Really? You're going to come?"

"I can't make any promises," Danny replied. "But... sure. I'll see if I can make it."

Wes's face split in an elated grin, and he bounced with renewed vigor. "The game starts at 4:30. I'm gonna kick everyone's butts tomorrow, you'll see!" He didn't give Danny any time to reply, dashing down the hallway in his rush to get home.

Danny watched him go with a perplexed huff. He wasn't sure what had gotten into Wes, approaching him out of the blue like that. He wasn't even sure why he had accepted the invitation; they really weren't close, far from it. Danny had only spent the time he did with him through some obligation to keep him safe. But if Wes tackled basketball like he did ghost training, then maybe the game wouldn't be completely boring to watch.

Heck, it might even be fun.

({O})

The audience was roaring in the gymnasium Thursday afternoon. The stomping of hundreds of pairs of feet was deafening, nearly overpowering the school anthem blaring over the speakers. Teenagers and parents filled the bleachers, many in white and red, others in black and white. On the court, cheerleaders kept the audience entertained, the school's feathered mascot performing cartwheels behind them. The very air was charged with school spirit.

Wes reveled in it.

At one end of the court, the Lucy-Muir Gulls performed their stretches, their coach giving them their last-minute instructions. At the other, the Casper Ravens took turns making practice shots, getting their own stretches in in between. Wes made his shot from the free throw line, the ball landing cleanly in the net. Out of the corner of his eye, he skimmed the crowded bleachers for a glimpse of wild black hair, and tried not to be disappointed when he didn't find it. Not that he'd really expected to. His ghost sense hadn't gone off, so he'd already known on some level that Danny wasn't there. He tried not to hold it against the guy; he'd probably gotten tied up with a ghost during patrol, or lost track of the time.

But that was fine. There was still another five minutes before the game was scheduled to start. Either Danny would show up, or he wouldn't. And if he didn't... Well, Wes was used to people being too busy to show up to his games. It was fine.

And then it was 4:30. Both teams were summoned to the center circle, the referee and jumpers standing inside while the remaining eight players surrounded them from outside. Wes planted his feet between his team's jumper and their basket, shaking out his wrists. His heart thumped loudly in his chest, and his feet itched to run, but he forced himself to keep still. His time would come, and soon.

The referee blew his whistle, and he tossed the ball in the air, both jumpers leaping when it reached its peak. Casper's had the height advantage, and tipped the ball Wes's way. He caught it easily, not even bothering to close the distance before taking his shot. The Gulls flanking him could only watch as the ball sailed overhead, hitting the backboard cleanly before landing in the basket. The Casper students in the audience roared at the quick score, and Wes grinned as he repositioned himself in anticipation of the other team's offense. He wasn't the Ravens' starting shooting guard for nothing.

It really was a shame Danny was missing out.

The first quarter was fairly standard. Both teams fought for possession of the ball, running back and forth across the court, and attempting to make and block shots as needed. Wes alternated between strafing the three point line, and getting up close and personal with his designated opponent, a Gull in jersey 11 who was a good head taller than him. Wes didn't mind the difference. It only made it so much easier to intercept the occasional bounce pass.

The buzzer went off, ending the quarter with a five point lead. Wes hooted in cheer, pumping a fist before wiping the sweat from his brow. It was already looking to be a promising game, and he was just getting warmed up.

Danny had yet to make an appearance. Fine. That was still fine.

The teams got to their positions, and play resumed. The second quarter didn't go quite as smooth as the first. The Gulls were learning, and learning quickly. How to block their center. How to draw attention to their own power forward so that their point guard had an opening. How Wes could steal any low pass that came his way, that they needed to pass high. Both teams swapped players around in an attempt to throw off each other's strategies, but despite the Ravens' efforts, the Gulls were closing in fast.

With two minutes left on the clock for the quarter, Wes felt it. That familiar jolt he had been waiting for the whole game rushed up the back of his neck, and he gasped. In his moment of distraction, frozen in place for just a second, the Lucy-Muir center bowled right over him and knocked him to the ground, the referee blaring his whistle in foul. The center was kind enough to offer him a hand up, but Wes took his time accepting it to scan the audience. The gym doors opened, almost meekly, and then in walked Danny, hair and clothes mussed like he'd gotten into a tussle with a small tornado. _He made it...!_

Half time started with Lucy-Muir at a two point lead, but Wes didn't care. He jogged to the bench for his water, and Danny waded through the crowd to meet him at the edge. "I can't believe you actually showed up," said Wes, all but throwing himself onto the bench.

"Yeah, sorry," Danny mumbled sheepishly. "Youngblood was causing problems in the bathrooms and wouldn't leave. I had to flush him down one of the toilets to make him go away."

That startled a laugh out of Wes. "You... You _flushed_ a ghost?!"

"I didn't have my thermos!"

Wes simply shook his head, still smiling. "Well, I'm glad you were able to make it. Now you get to see what I can really do to these chumps."

Danny put his hands on his hips. "Oh, and what are you, the star player?" he teased.

"Yes," Wes sniffed haughtily.

Danny quirked a brow at that. "And I'm guessing you plan on proving it?"

Wes snorted. "You'll see."

The referee whistled once more, and Ms. Tetslaff barked for the team to get back on the court. Wes jumped to his feet, clapping once before jogging back to the center circle. He grinned viciously, his heart already racing in anticipation for the endgame. Wes hadn't been holding back before, but now... Now, it was time to show off.

Danny squeezed himself into a seat near the court, elbows on his knees and hands cupping his face. Though he was convinced that Wes's bragging had been all bluster, he was intent on seeing if there was any truth to his claims. After all, you didn't invite someone you barely talked to to a game you weren't certain you would win. Danny wondered if he could back up that confidence.

One short whistle later, and the players were off. Danny didn't have to understand basketball to notice that Wes was far from the best player on the team; despite his somewhat impressive height, he was still one of the shortest players on the floor, and he almost readily telegraphed nearly every move he made. Once an opponent knew what he had planned, he was easily thwarted.

But he was quick, almost astonishingly so. A teammate passed him the ball, and he didn't even have to look over in order to accept it. He dribbled low, swerving around a hulking player that had to have been a senior with an agility he should not be able to possess while bouncing a ball. He was across the court in moments, ducking around other players with the cockiest smirk on his face, stopping just short of the three point line before making a clean shot to the net. And then he had the gall to look straight at Danny with such smugness as he ran back the way he came.

Okay, so maybe he _was_ good. Not star athlete good, but good.

Wes made similar plays throughout the quarter, using his speed and stature to his advantage. But it was when he didn't have the ball that Danny's interest piqued. A Raven botched a shot that bounced off of the backboard, and a Gull readily claimed the ball and began making his way across the court. But Wes was already in his path, crouched with his arms out to his sides. Preparing to steal. They faced off for all of half a second, and then the Gull leaned to the left. In nearly the same moment, Wes was to his opposite side, swiping the ball like it had been handed to him before making a successful two point shot. The Gull quickly leaned right, and only then seemed to realize he didn't have the ball, glancing between the basket and his empty hand.

That... had been an attempted feint. Lean one way, get the opponent to follow, then go the opposite direction. But Wes hadn't fallen for it, had moved nearly in sync with the Gull. He'd somehow known it was a feint before the other player had even moved.

Nearly two years of ghost hunting had honed Danny's senses, enough that he knew what to look for. The twitch of a muscle. A glance away. The breeze of an invisible strike. The shift from one foot to the other. He had enough experience to know that if two tells didn't line up, one of them was a lie, a trick. He'd done enough fighting to know how to spot a feint, and to act accordingly. But to react so quickly, to be so confidently unfooled that he didn't even begin to follow the Gull...

He couldn't lie. He was impressed. And judging by the smirk Wes shot him, he knew it, too.

Despite the admittedly splendid plays, Lucy-Muir still pulled ahead with a six point lead. And yet Wes was grinning. He was sweating, panting, red in the face, and without a doubt thoroughly exhausted. But he somehow still had the energy to bounce where he stood, a sharp glint to his eye that reminded Danny of all those times Wes was sure, _so sure,_ that he'd finally captured the condemning evidence he so desperately craved. Like he was the cat that had caught the canary. Even through the obvious fatigue, seeing Wes with his eyes blown wide, lips peeled back to show slightly parted teeth, fingers flexing and closing at his sides... Were he not one of the biggest laughingstocks in the school, it would have been an almost intimidating display.

Danny had the feeling that it was going to be an interesting final quarter.

And interesting it was. When the referee whistled a signal to start, the Ravens were given possession of the ball. Wes gave everything he had in order to keep Lucy-Muir on the ropes. He kept himself between the offense and the basket. He took every three point shot he could. He charged aggressively when he was close to the basket, drawing fouls for a chance to score that precious extra point. Though the Gulls stubbornly remained ahead, the combined efforts of the Ravens was enough to nearly close the gap.

Ms. Tetslaff called for a time-out with nine seconds on the clock, the screen on the wall marking them at only two points behind. The Casper players huddled together, determined to make their last play count. "Alright team, our best bet now is to try to get the game into overtime, buy us a few minutes to get ahead. So we're gonna have to make an aggressive push. Do whatever you can to make sure Paulsen gets possession of the ball-"

"I'll make the shot."

All heads turned to Wes, an incredulous look on nearly every teen's face. "You?" their point guard blurted out. "Are you kidding? There's nine seconds left, if you get the ball you're gonna get trampled!"

"They can't trample me if they can't catch me," Wes replied resolutely. "I've made almost every shot I went for today. Get me the ball, and I'll score."

The Ravens stared some more, then looked at Ms. Tetslaff, who seemed to be debating the request herself. Wes had been on his feet the entire game. He had to be tired, and tired players made mistakes. That wasn't even mentioning the fact that, while Wes had earned the right to be a cocky player, he had a knack for getting ahead of himself in the late game, overestimating his ability to score against a team desperate to gain or keep a lead.

But that wasn't to say he hadn't come in clutch before, either. Time and again, she was stunned by his ability to read the court, to have an understanding of where every player on the floor was, what they were going to do. And he had more than enough speed to make good use of that knowledge. Nobody could touch him if he didn't want to be touched. And he _did_ have some high percentages this game...

"...Alright, Weston. Everyone will make sure to get you the ball. But make it count, because you only have one shot."

Wes looked to the edge of the audience, his eyes meeting Danny's icy blue. Somebody had actually shown up to his game, for _him._ He couldn't make a fool of himself, it wasn't an option. "...I will."

The Ravens broke apart, taking their positions once more on the court. Wes's heart beat wildly in his chest, and his limbs shook with fatigue. But he was certain he could make the basket. He only needed to do it once.

The referee blew his whistle one last time, and the court bustled with movement. The Ravens charged, Wes flanking their power forward. The Gulls zeroed in on the forward, who made a quick chest pass to Wes. Lucy-Muir's own shooting guard wedged himself between Wes and the basket, but was easily swerved around and avoided. He crossed the center line, ducking under the arm of the opposing center. Blood roared in his ears, and he bared his teeth in a determined grin. He had three seconds on the clock, and Gulls surrounded him on all sides, barring his view of the basket. But he could make it. He knew he could. He had to.

He jumped.

Wes soared, almost as if in slow motion. The Gulls could only watch as he sailed by, the ball held high over his head in both hands. He could feel the beating of his own heart, pounding against his ribs, faster and faster. Something roared in his chest, swelling until he felt like he was going to burst. He refused to let it distract him. The basket was so close, only inches away. All he had to do was bring his hands forward, and...

A tingling numbness ran down his arms, and the ball, quite literally, slipped through his fingers. Wes gasped, hands once again solidifying as he scrambled for the ball, but it was too late. It hit the floor with a resounding _plunk,_ and Wes fell not long after, having barely enough presence of mind to protect his head with his forearm. The final alarm blared, almost tauntingly, signaling the end of the game. 84 to 86.

Wes's teammates surrounded him, and he sat up, quietly assuring them he was fine. Someone offered him a hand up, and he accepted it, the player giving him a gentle slap on the back. It wasn't the first time someone had fumbled a game-changing shot. It happened.

Post-game wrapped up as it always did. Wes hit the showers, then left the school, his bag slung over his shoulder.

He didn't need his ghost sense to know that Danny had jogged up behind him. "I didn't realize you actually knew how to play."

Wes snorted derisively. "Yeah, I asked you to come to a game I didn't know the rules to."

"No, I mean..." Danny shook his head. "...You're good. Not the star player you said you were, but... it was actually kinda fun to watch."

Wes huffed, casting a sidelong glance over. "I bet it was. You got to watch me fudge the last shot of the game."

"You think I liked watching you fail?" Danny asked, astonished. Wes shot him a sour look. "Hey, you and I both know that wasn't your fault. Sometimes, that kind of thing just happens when you don't want it to."

Wes looked away again, keeping his gaze straight ahead. "Yeah, well... I still should have been able to make it."

Danny elbowed him in an attempt to cheer him up. "Look at it this way. From what I saw, the rest of the game had been pretty awesome. I had no idea you could move like that."

That put a hesitant smirk on Wes's face. "I've always liked running, so of course I would be good at it." Danny rolled his eyes. A moment of silence passed, and Wes's brows furrowed. "...Why have you been so nice to me?"

"Huh?"

"We're not friends. You didn't have to follow me home to cheer me up. And I tried to expose you up until a couple weeks ago. I could have gotten you killed, or... or worse. Don't you hate me for everything I tried to do to you?"

Danny pursed his lips, thinking over his answer. Then, he shrugged. "Nah, I never hated you. It wasn't like you knew what you were doing, or that you actually ever hurt me. It was annoying sometimes, sure, but mostly I thought it was kinda funny."

Wes smiled, a small, pensive smile. "I always did hate how easily you brushed everything off. I never could seem to get under your skin."

"Hard to be scared when your stuff always seems to get lost or broken," Danny replied with a smirk of his own.

"Please. I know you were possessing my stuff and deleting the files," Wes accused him. Danny's smile only got bigger. "...I'm home."

Danny started, turning to look at the single-story house. "...Oh. You live pretty close, then."

"Yep."

"...Well. Guess I'll see you at school tomorrow."

"Yeah." Danny turned to walk away, but Wes called out one last time. "Will you come to the next game, too?"

Danny paused, turning back around. "...We'll see." And then he was gone, heading back the way he came.

Wes unlocked the front door, kicking off his shoes once he was inside and letting his schoolbag drop to the floor. He went to his room, hopping onto his bed back first. Anxious for the game as he was, he hadn't properly slept those few days beforehand. He didn't care that it was barely 7:30. He just wanted to close his eyes and sleep the rest of the week away.

...But sleep didn't come. It was earlier than he usually turned in, so it was to be expected. Wes got up with a groan, heading to the kitchen to make a quick snack. Once it was eaten, he went back to his room, slipping into something more comfortable and crawling under the covers.

He closed his eyes. Opened them. Stared at his wall for a minute. Closed his eyes again. Rolled over. Kicked off his blankets. Pulled them back up. Turned over his pillow. Rolled over again. Let his arm dangle. Tucked it back in. Stretched his legs out. Opened his eyes.

Whatever Wes did, he couldn't get comfortable. On his back, he felt too stiff. On his stomach, he didn't know where to put his arms. On his side, his legs bounced restlessly. Exhaustion tugged at his eyelids, nearly two weeks of on-and-off sleepless nights demanding relief. But no matter what he tried, his body refused to give in.

It made sense. He had just had his first game since becoming a ghost. He had run himself ragged, sure, but that was less than two hours ago, so he must still be wound up. He probably just needed to give himself time to settle down.

Wes climbed out of bed yet again, dragging himself to the living room. He turned on the boxy television set and sat down on the floor. But he couldn't get comfortable there, either. The couch was no better. Sitting down, laying across, upside down, he couldn't sit still. After about five minutes, he gave up, switching the TV back off.

A run. A run was what he needed to tire himself out.

Wes tugged on his preferred jogging outfit, heading back out the door. The sun had set by then, and Wes smiled. The crisp air would do him some good, he was sure. He started at an easy jog around the block, breathing in time with his footsteps. And then he did another lap, a little faster. His legs ached, still somewhat sore from earlier, but he itched to keep going. On the third lap, he broke into a sprint, running as fast as his legs would carry him. Four, five, six laps. The seventh left him wheezing, set his lugs on fire. He didn't stop until his ninth lap, legs shaking and ready to give out. He dragged himself home, changed clothes yet again, and once more crawled into bed.

He was so, so tired. So why was it that, even now, he felt like he couldn't stop moving? Where was all this energy coming from? Had his heartbeat ever even slowed down? He could still hear it, pulsing in his ears. Still feel it, he swore his whole chest convulsed in time with it. He measured the beats. One-forty. Too fast. Way too fast. Too consistent. He couldn't remember it settling down at all that day.

This wasn't normal. But what was causing it? What was he doing different? When did it start? It was fast a week ago. Was it fast before that, too? When was the last time he had properly kept still? He had no hope of getting any sleep like this, fretting like he was.

Wes could tell. Something was very, very wrong.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I did my best to keep things as close to an actual high school basketball game as I could. But I have never played myself, and the single game I've seen was a long time ago. Because of this I intentionally left some things pretty vague, but if anything is outright wrong, please let me know.
> 
> Woohoo, more ghost stuff next chapter!


	11. Dazzling

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I basically busted this one out in one night because this was one of the chapters I've wanted to write from the beginning, haha. Enjoy!

It had to be a ghost thing. It had to be.

It was 3:42 in the morning when Wes reached that conclusion, anxiously pacing his room. He'd taken what he knew, inferred what he didn't, and that was the only thing that made sense. He'd only recently noticed the problem, but he could tell that the signs had been there even days after his initial transformation. He had always been a restless individual, but never like this. He had never had problems with his heart either, as far as he could recall. There had been no issues with his diet, and outside of when he first got injured, his physical activity had stayed up. He wasn't sleeping as much as usual, at first of his own volition. But that had only been because he was curious about his new abilities. Now, he couldn't get almost any rest at all, no matter how much he wanted to. Still, insomnia alone shouldn't make his heart race like it was, as if it was trying to burst out of his chest.

But his skin... His skin felt like it was absolutely _crawling._ Scratching was no use, whatever it was was happening inside of him. His limbs were so sore, and yet he couldn't stop moving them. Every motion sent a spike of nerves shooting throughout his body, and that only made it feel worse, like he had so much pent-up energy that refused to escape him. The only thing Wes found that helped was to keep moving, always moving. But the moment he stopped, shakes wracked his body full force, sometimes worse than when he'd started. Even if he was physically exhausted, he needed to keep moving, anything to keep from feeling like his bones were writhing, like his heart was going to explode. Was this why he had never noticed before? Had basketball practice kept him somehow oblivious to all of this?

This had never been a problem before he became a ghost. And if it was this bad after only two weeks, how bad would it be after another two weeks? Another month? A year? Was this something that would get worse and worse for the rest of his life?

Danny would know, Wes was sure. But he couldn't go to school like this. His vision swam from lack of sleep, and he couldn't stand the thought of sitting at a desk for a solid seven hours. He needed help. But how long until he would be able to get it?

Wes glanced at the clock. 5:29. Danny would probably wake up at 6:30 or 7. He could call at 7, explain what was happening, what he was feeling. If he was lucky, Danny would know what was going on, maybe even know how to solve it. If not...

No. Danny would know. He'd been a ghost as long as Wes could remember. He never seemed to have this sort of unnatural restlessness. He had to know how to fix it.

Wes returned to bed, laying on top of it and forcing himself to keep still. He made himself ignore the shudder that ran through his body and didn't stop, resisted the urge to jump to his feet and run across the room. He needed to hold out as long as he could. Even if moving provided some small relief, if it really did make the issue worse, he needed to stop while he still could. He just needed to hang tight until he could get ahold of Danny.

An agonizing hour and a half later, the moment it turned 7, Wes snatched his phone from the nightstand, hurriedly dialing Danny's number. He sat up as he held the phone to his ear, curled in on himself and leg bouncing worriedly. It took four rings for Danny to pick up. "...Wes?" He sounded drowsy, like he had just woken up. Wes was too nervous to care.

"I think something's wrong."

Danny sounded more alert when he next spoke. "What do you mean?"

"I don't know, but I think... I think it might have to do with my ghost powers? Please, can you come over? I-I don't know what to do."

Danny was silent for a while, and Wes carded a hand through his hair. He couldn't stop shaking. "...How serious is this? Do you need me to come after school, or is it an emergency?"

"I can't tell," Wes replied, though he really, really wished Danny would come sooner. "This has been going on for... for at least a week, I think. But it's only starting to get bad now. I just don't know how bad."

There was more silence on Danny's end. "...If it gets worse, call me, and I'll come up with some excuse to leave school. But I can't keep leaving class if I can avoid it, so only call me if it's urgent, alright?"

Wes let out a shuddery breath. "...Okay... Thank you." Danny hung up, and Wes all but tossed his phone back to the nightstand, laying on his side and curling up into a ball. He could wait until 4, couldn't he? That was only nine hours away. He'd already gone two weeks, what was another half a day? He would be fine, he was sure. He just... needed to try to get some more sleep. The faster he could make the time go by, the better.

So there he lay, shaking and twitching, keeping his eyes shut tight. But just like it had been all night, it was a hopeless endeavor. He itched to run, but he forced himself still. He could pretend for as long as he needed to.

One hour. Two. Three. His stomach growled, and he got to his feet so he could make himself something to eat. A bowl of cereal would do. Once he'd eaten it, he confined himself to the couch to continue waiting. His dad came through as he got ready for work, and after a short explanation, called Wes in sick. It did, however, take some convincing to ensure Walter didn't do the same for himself. Wes would be fine.

Four hours. Five. He still couldn't stop bouncing and flexing. He went back to his room, fishing through his dresser for one of his compression tank tops. He took off his shirt so that he could slip it on over his head, putting his shirt back on over it. It did nothing for the endless energy that continued to bottle itself up, but the restrictive fabric was soothing nonetheless. He went back to bed, anxiously watching the clock.

Six. Seven. Eight. He didn't have much longer to go. He was fine, he told himself. Even if he felt like he could burst at any moment, he was fine. He only had another hour to wait. He could hold himself together for that long. He'd gotten this far. It would be okay.

Nine hours. Danny would arrive any minute. Wes glanced from the clock to the phone, to the doorway and back. What was taking so long? _If there was another ghost at the school I'm going to scream._

...Actually, maybe that would help him. It had helped him when he was young and had more energy than he knew what to do with, at any rate. And one of Phantom's attacks was basically a really big scream, right? What if that was why he never got those terrible shakes? Maybe it would do him some good. So he grabbed his pillow, buried his face in it, and did just that, screaming with all his might.

It didn't actually help with his predicament at all. But at least he felt a little calmer.

A couple minutes later, there was a knock at the door. Wes was on his feet in an instant, flinging the door open without checking to see who it was. He all but tugged Danny into the house, slamming the door in the process. "Oh thank god you're finally here."

Danny frowned at the hands grasping the front of his shirt, then pried them off. "So what's all this about? What's going on with your powers?"

Wes paced back and forth through the living room. He figured he could allow himself that much. "That's just it, I don't know what's going on. I noticed my heart was beating a little faster than it should last week, no big deal. But now it's beating so hard I can't believe it hasn't blown up yet. I can't stop moving, and if I move at all I have to move _more,_ and it keeps getting worse! I haven't slept right in days, and I can't stop shaking!"

Danny blinked at him. "...Wes, it sounds less like a problem for me, and more like a problem for your doctor."

"No! It all started after you turned me into a ghost! Feel this!" Wes thrust his wrist in Danny's face, forcing him to take a step backwards. Shooting him an irritated look, Danny grasped it, and immediately he could tell what Wes meant. His heart was beating faster and harder than what had to be healthy; his own had settled to a low 30 beats when he first changed. Upon further inspection, it didn't even seem like Wes was trembling. It was more like he was _vibrating._ "...This isn't normal. And it wasn't like this last week. Can you help me or not?"

Danny released Wes's hand, curling a finger under his chin. "...Are you cold?"

"Huh?" Wes furrowed his brows, and continued pacing. "No, no, not cold. Just restless. But I've never had it this bad. What does being cold have to do with anything? Am I supposed to be cold? I'm not cold, is that bad?"

"Alright, don't freak out when I say this," Danny warned him, "but... I think your core might be overloading."

Wes stopped. Looked at Danny. Gaped. "...An overload?! Am I actually gonna explode?!"

"No, nobody is exploding," Danny was quick to assure him, holding his hands out. "It just means you have some excess energy you need to let out. You've only been a Halfa for a couple weeks, so you should be okay for now. It takes a long time for core energy to build up to the point that it becomes dangerous. Or it did for me, but..." He paused. Glanced at Wes's worried expression. "...Come on, we're going to the forest. You'll feel better once you've let it out. Then we'll figure out how you got to this point so fast."

Wes nodded, still visibly nervous. He pulled his shoes on, hurrying out the door. Danny had to jog to keep up. "So what's the deal with cores then, huh?" Wes asked, hoping for something to distract him.

Danny looked at him, having expected a similar question. "Well, Jazz told you about how they're basically the source of a ghost's power, right?" Wes nodded, so he continued. "A core is what keeps a ghost going, and every ghost has a different kind of core. That's why I asked if you were cold. I have an ice core... or maybe it's a water core. We aren't actually sure how specific it gets. I'd figured that if the portal was what changed us both, then it would make sense if you had a similar core. But I don't think you do. I never had any of those symptoms you were talking about, but I think we can solve your problem the same way I solved mine."

"Oh yeah?" Wes hummed. He was still frowning with visible discomfort, but it had mellowed somewhat, his brows smoothing out. He watched Danny out of the corner of his eye, hanging onto every word. "What way was that?"

"My problem was that I hadn't been using enough of my core energy," Danny replied. "See, the buildup happens separate from the usual ghost powers, like it's attached to more specific kinds of powers. For me, that's ice. Before I figured out how to use that, I was only letting a small amount escape at a time. I fight ghosts almost every day, so that might have something to do with why it took me so long to start overloading. But you aren't really the crimefighting type, so you're going to have to go somewhere to outlet every once in a while. I just didn't think it would be this soon."

"...Well, why _can't_ I fight crime like you?" Wes questioned. Danny blinked at him. "I was able to do it once. And if it helps you, it would probably help me, too."

"Johnny can be kind of a creep sometimes," said Danny, "but he usually isn't that dangerous. There are way worse ghosts out there than him and Shadow, ghosts who can and will seriously hurt you. And you still don't have any powers that could help you against any of them. Do you really want to try punching out someone like Vortex, or Plasmius?"

Wes frowned thoughtfully. "...Maybe it'll come with time. You didn't figure out how to blast ghosts until a couple months after you first showed up, right? And you couldn't scream until around half a year ago, I think."

"Wail," Danny corrected him automatically. "And... maybe. We won't know what kind of powers you'll get until they crop up on their own. But... maybe we'll at least figure out what kind of core you have after this. That might be a good starting point."

Wes grinned excitedly, and all but sprinted when the treeline came into view. Danny ran after him, transforming once he was under the cover of the trees. If Wes was going to be releasing a whole bunch of energy neither of them knew the nature of, he didn't want to be in human form if it hit him.

Soon he reached the clearing, where Wes was already waiting, hopping from foot to foot. He kept his arms around his waist, like he was trying to physically hold himself together. Danny didn't want to keep him waiting any longer than he had to. "Alright, you're gonna want to go ghost for this. But I gotta warn you, whatever you're feeling right now is probably gonna feel a bit worse in ghost form."

The young Halfa nodded, and he changed with his characteristic flash of light. The second his aura stabilized, he whined, squeezing himself even tighter as a forceful spasm took hold of him. "...Now what?" he asked, his voice warbling.

"This part might suck at first," said Danny, "but you're going to want to take that feeling, that energy, and pull it all inside of you. Let it build up until you can't anymore."

"Are you kidding me?!" Wes cried out. "I'm supposed to let it get worse?!"

"Not worse, the energy is already there," Danny told him. "You just need to gather it all in one place."

Wes frowned, humming nervously, but he tried to do as he was instructed. Danny had been right; it wasn't a pleasant feeling. He felt his heart rate increasing, and it quickly went from a heavy rhythm to a hammering staccato. His whole form shook as he drew in that restless energy, drawing it into his chest. From there... it got better. His knees steadied, and his hands began to relax, the veins behind his knuckles no longer sticking out quite as starkly. His heart still felt like it was about to burst out of his ribcage, the sound of it almost deafening, but he found it strangely more bearable, when every jolt and twitch that had plagued him for days was confined to his chest. Sweat beaded against his brow as he focused on keeping it all there, but he found himself almost welcoming that powerful thrum.

"Now, push it all out at once," said Danny. "But, um. Maybe do it in that direction?"

Wes's aura dimmed, just for a moment. At first, he thought it was going to be like before, that the feeling would ebb away with it. But then, suddenly, the power he had gathered together _surged,_ and his glow burst forth, lighting up the clearing like a miniature blue sun. All the energy that had been building for the past two weeks escaped in a rush, and he laughed with relief, pushing himself to go brighter and brighter. But then Danny cried out, and he gasped, his glow abruptly cutting off. "Fenton?" He turned, and Danny was doubled over, hands clutching at his eyes. "Fenton!"

Danny pulled his hands away from his face, forcing his eyes open. But he was blinking quickly, his eyes not entirely focused. He rubbed at them, standing up straight again. "I'm fine, I'm fine, just... I wasn't expecting you to get that bright."

Chewing at his lip, Wes lifted one hand, finger pointing up, and slowly moved it side to side. Danny's eyes didn't follow it. "Oh my god, you're blind!" he cried out.

"I'm not blind, it's just spots," Danny retorted. "I'll be fine in a minute. Yeesh, remind me to bring sunglasses next time. Anyway, how are you feeling now?"

Wes frowned, considering the question. That restlessness hadn't faded, not completely. He still felt like he could run for miles without stopping if he tried. But it no longer held the same grip that it had over him that morning. His heart still beat quickly, but it seemed to have settled, a rapid but gentle rhythm against his fingertips when he measured his pulse. 90 beats. "...Better. Not perfect, but definitely better."

"Good. That's good," Danny breathed. He rubbed at his eyes one more time, blinking away the last of the stars in his vision. "And now we know your core has something to do with light, too. But if you're gonna do that again, give me some warning, alright?"

Wes laughed giddily, a number of possible uses already running through his head. Lighting up dark areas was an obvious one, and he was sure he could distract or blind hostile ghosts, too. He recalled his glow turning pink the week before, and was certain he could change colors on purpose if he tried. He wondered how bright he could make himself, or if he could limit it to certain parts of his body. Could he project it from himself, create an external light source? Could he manipulate an already existing light? Power over light could be so versatile, and he longed to experiment and figure out what he could do with it.

...But it could wait. His eyelids drooped, and he swayed on his feet. Days of accumulating fatigue finally caught up, and without the core energy coursing through his veins to keep him going, he collapsed. Danny caught him before he could hit the ground, the exhausted teen reverting back to his human form. He was out cold, snoring obnoxiously.

Danny shook his head, a weary smile on his face. Wes must have really been tired, to fall asleep standing like that. Danny shifted him into something more comfortable, his feet leaving the ground as he headed back to Wes's house. He phased through the wall, depositing Wes onto his bed. The young Halfa immediately shifted, rolling onto his stomach and letting an arm and a leg dangle off the edge. Danny snorted at the sight, hovering there for just a moment before flying home.

Wes deserved the rest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been waiting for this moment basically since I came up with the Halfa Wes concept lmao. I didn't want to delve too deep into what his core energy actually is yet, but I figured this was a good way to dip my toes into it.
> 
> I'm not sure whether to do a power experiment chapter or a character development chapter next, but whatever I end up doing, I hope to see y'all soon!


	12. Flicker

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was a little worried about doing a power experimentation chapter this time around. At this point in time, it would be very easy to show more than I currently want to. But at the same time, Wes can't discover a new power and NOT want to figure out how it works and what it does, so it needed to be done. So what did I do? I mentally outlined what I wanted to share and what I didn't, and I made it work. So here you go. XD

It was 2 o'clock the following day when Wes woke up. He slowly rolled onto his back, stretching his arms up high. He smacked his lips, his eyes finally cracking open. He didn't remember falling asleep in his bed, but it wasn't that much of a stretch to guess what had happened. He would have to thank Danny later.

Wes sat up, realizing that he was definitely more well-rested than he had been in days. Everything was quiet; he couldn't hear the blood rushing through his ears, nor did he feel like his whole chest was convulsing. He was a tad restless, but that was about normal for him anyway. He measured his pulse, and was happy to note that he was only at around 70 beats per minute. Half of what it had been before. He sighed with relief, flopping back onto the mattress.

So he had control over light. Or at least, that's what that power seemed to be. He still wasn't completely sure what had happened. He knew he'd lit up, but he couldn't tell how bright he'd gotten. Enough that Danny had kept rubbing at his eyes up until the moment he'd passed out. Wes wondered what else he could do with that power. He hadn't had a chance to delve into any of the intricacies before, but now that he was wide awake, he longed to explore every single possibility. He closed his eyes, mentally locating his core. Intentionally tapping into it while in human form was like swimming through molasses, but he could tell that the energy was still buried there, the tips of his fingers twitching in anticipation. Surely it wouldn't hurt to get some practice in.

Wes glanced at his desk, where his camera sat innocently. He got to his feet, picking it up and checking the battery. Low, of course. He hadn't used it since getting caught, but he had also neglected to charge it. He huffed, rummaging through his desk drawers until he found a couple of spare batteries. He didn't want another video with a premature ending.

His stomach growled, and he winced. All he'd eaten the day before was a bowl of cereal, and it was already well into the afternoon. _You need to eat three square meals a day if you want to fuel your powers properly,_ nagged a voice in the back of his head that sounded suspiciously like Danny. And really, what a hypocrite. But eating did sound like a good idea. If he was going to spend the day training, he would definitely need the energy to do it. He looked through the fridge, pulling out some leftover chicken and rice to reheat. He devoured it in record time, then jogged towards the woods. He needed somewhere more private to train such a conspicuous power, after all.

It felt like no time at all when Wes reached the clearing. He transformed, then turned on the camera. "Wes Weston again, and it's now November 12th, 2005. I had to put this on hold for a bit because I had school, and a game to practice for, but the good news is, I've discovered a new power. I can make my aura bright enough to blind people, I guess. Not permanently, thank god. But still, it's really bright... I should probably put an epilepsy warning here, because I'm about to do it."

Wes set the camera down, then stepped away so that his whole body was in view. He reached into his core, and the reaction was instantaneous. Power lit up within his veins, muscles flexing as if in preparation to sprint. It wasn't nearly as intense as the first time, didn't have quite that same pull. And now, Wes was awake and fully alert. There was nothing holding him back this time as his own energy tried to elevate every aspect of his being, nothing requiring him to resist it. He no longer had a reason to fear it. He even found himself welcoming it, the way it made his heart sing, made him feel like he could run forever and never stop. Like he could do anything.

He reeled that energy in, focused it all to one point in his chest. Then he let it escape him, his aura creeping closer to his skin before exploding around him. Wes laughed at the sensation of his power rushing through and outside of him, leaving him buzzing and lightheaded in the most pleasant way. He held himself that way for only a few seconds, then drew the power back, his glow dimming to something more standard. His heart still beat quickly in his chest, his core thrumming in time with it. Wes was grinning.

"Pretty cool, huh?" he asked giddily, shaking his hands out to ease the residual nerves. "So that's what my power looks like if I just let it come out. What I'm going to try doing today is focusing on getting it to do more specific stuff. First, I'm gonna see if I can choose how bright I get."

Calling on that power again was easy, when it still rested under his skin. His arms and legs trembled excitedly, but he resisted the urge to push everything out, and instead let it simply seep out of him. His aura dimmed only slightly before it surged, brightening enough that he couldn't quite see his own skin through it. From there, he let his glow increase, then ebb, brighter and dimmer in time with his breathing. With one last puff of air, it settled once more, leaving his freckles and pupils a vibrant shade of yellow.

"...Wow. Heh, it worked," Wes chuckled disbelievingly. "So I can change how bright I am, but I do have to concentrate to do it, otherwise it all sort of comes out at once. Definitely not bad for a first attempt, I think.

"Next, I want to try changing the color," he told the audience. "I already know my eyes and freckles can do it. Here, look." He leaned closer to the camera, so that it could observe as he willed his blurry attributes to turn a vivid shade of blue. "My glow changed once before on accident, so I bet I could do it on purpose if I really tried."

Wes concentrated, willing his energy to change to a blue similar to his eyes. It took more focus, but soon his aura saturated and deepened, matching his other features perfectly. Smiling to himself, he pushed himself to turn fire truck red, then indigo, and finally black. Satisfied, he let his concentration break, his glow flickering back to its usual cyan while his eyes gleamed a happy chartreuse.

"That worked pretty well," said Wes, making a show of smugly dusting off his hands. "It's a bit harder than doing just my eyes and stuff, but it's cool to know I can do that if I want to."

Wes checked his camera batteries, humming when he saw that it still had two-thirds of a charge left. Nodding to himself, he moved on. "So I can change colors, and I can change brightness. Now, I'm gonna try to see if I can make only part of me glow at a time, instead of all at once. Hopefully, it'll work out just like everything else has so far."

The Halfa strengthened his resolve once more, his core stirring back to life yet again. He recalled his prior solo training, when he had attempted to fire a laser from his hands. That approach hadn't worked at the time, but maybe that was because he hadn't known where his core was. Perhaps it would work better if he imagined the light coming from there first.

So that's what he did. Energy pulsed from his core, and he envisioned it traveling to his shoulder, then down his arm, past the elbow, to his wrist, and finally in the palm of his hand. His aura dimmed to almost nothing as he concentrated, but as he watched, mesmerized, his veins slowly lit up like they were full of glowstick fluid, the faint glow starting at his elbow and traveling downwards. His heart fluttered excitedly, and soon the light under his skin reached his wrist, branching across the palm of his hand and to the tips of his fingers. Smiling victoriously, he brought that power to the surface...

...where it promptly snuffed out and died.

"...Huh?" Wes tried again, but nothing happened. He flapped his hand, hoping that shaking it would help, but his core simply gave a weak stutter before settling down again. With a confused huff, he tried to wake it back up, but it didn't respond at all. Even his aura was completely gone. "...Did I... run out?"

No, that was impossible. If he was really out of power, he would have reverted back to human form, wouldn't he? Or at the very least, he would feel that deep ache in his chest that he had learned to associate with core exhaustion. Instead, he felt nothing. Experimentally lifting his feet showed that he still had access to his other powers, as did turning invisible. But somehow, light was suddenly beyond him.

"...Okay, so I'm all out of juice," Wes sheepishly told the camera, "which means I'm gonna have to wait for it to come back... _Unless,_ " he surmised, "I have a way to get it back myself.

"New experiment. While I was gone, I was going through something that Fe... someone who helped me thought was a core overload. Basically I had too much energy. But I noticed that moving around made it feel better for a little while, only for it to sometimes feel worse once I stopped. So I think that, maybe, if I run for a little bit I'll be able to replenish myself. It wouldn't hurt to try, at least."

Wes picked up his camera, opting to keep it on. He didn't know how long his stamina would hold out, nor how much power he could actually glean from running, but that would be yet another thing for him to become familiar with. Anything he could learn about how his powers worked would prove helpful.

He crouched, and then he took off.

Wes was off like a shot, feet pounding against the forest floor. He ran away from Amity Park, leaping over roots and swerving around bushes almost on autopilot. Running... felt good. Really good. A grin broke out across his face, hair billowing behind him as he pushed himself as fast as he could go. His calves burned pleasantly, spurring him to keep going. Harder, faster, his strides growing longer as he gained confidence in the terrain.

As Wes ran, his aura slowly flickered to life, until it was back to its usual vibrance. But he didn't stop. His core was still nearly mute in his chest, only barely supplying enough power to maintain his ethereal glow. He couldn't stop yet, and he didn't want to. Even when it felt like his lungs were on fire, his forehead soaked with sweat, he was determined to run until he couldn't run anymore.

He couldn't recall when, exactly, he lost his legs, but he soon found his tail snaking behind him, snapping and sizzling when it made contact with the ground. Wes laughed, picking up speed as he lowered his torso, barely keeping it above the ground as he moved. His tail twitched and flailed, the tip smacking eagerly against the neighboring trees with every swerve and sharp turn. Every contact sent an exhilarated thrill up Wes's spine, motivating him to push himself more, more, _more..._

His phone rang without warning, and he startled, skidding to a stop. His tail coiled and writhed beneath him as he pulled out his phone, the caller ID telling him it was his dad. Panting with exertion, he hit the green button and held the phone to his ear. "Hey dad. What's up?"

"Wesley," Walter breathed. "How are you feeling? You missed dinner last night, and you were still asleep when I left."

"I'm feeling loads better," Wes replied. "Actually, I'm feeling great! I slept good, I had a big breakfast... er, lunch, and right now I'm doing some training. I don't think what happened yesterday will be a problem anymore."

"Good. That's... That's good," said Walter. He sounded relieved. "I'm glad you're doing better. What kind of training are you doing now?"

"Daaad, not over the phone," Wes hissed. "Anyone could be listening in."

His father chuckled, deciding to humor his son. "Alright, alright, I get it. You can tell me all about it later tonight. I should be home for dinner this time. How do you feel about pizza?"

Wes smiled softly at the rare opportunity. "...Pizza sounds great. Could you grab Hawaiian?"

"Hawaiian it is," Walter promised. Wes's phone beeped a warning, and he pulled it away from his ear to look at the screen. Low battery. He frowned with a hum; he knew Danny hadn't plugged it in for him, but he still could have sworn it had more charge left.

"...I gotta go, my phone's almost dead. But I'll see you when you get home, okay?"

"Alright. I should get back to work, anyway," Walter conceded. "I love you, Wesley."

Another smile. "Love you too, dad."

There was a soft click, and Wes pocketed his phone. Remembering what he had been doing before the call, he brought his camera back up. Totally dead. Strange, it had been well over half battery ten minutes ago. Maybe it was the camera itself that was going bad, not the battery. "I guess practice is over for the day..."

Wes sighed, then opted to fly home rather than walk; a quick glimpse at his core showed that it was already brimming with energy once more. So running _did_ have something to do with it. He decided it was a good idea to burn most of it off on the way home. He wanted to be able to sleep that night, thank you very much.

The idea of flying without someone there to catch him was a little nerve-wracking, but he reminded himself that he was more than capable of becoming airborne on his own. The faster he flew, the more stable he would be. As long as he kept that in mind, he would be fine.

Wes raised himself from the ground, his tail unraveling from its coiled posture as he got higher up. He rocked back, and then shot forwards, his core singing and awaiting release. He readily obliged, shining like a bright beacon of light as he hurtled towards his house.

If that was what having a full core was supposed to feel like, Wes thought it might be nice to work a jog in in the mornings.

({O})

"So you can actually run out, huh?"

It was a rare instance where Danny and his friends arrived to the first class of the day early. The room was devoid of other students, and even the teacher had yet to arrive. That meant there was plenty of time for Wes to regale the ghost hunters with tales of his new abilities.

"Apparently. One minute I have a handle on my powers, then bam. Next thing I know I'm not even glowing. But I could still fly and stuff just fine."

"Huh, weird," hummed Tucker. "Most ghosts can make their own core energy, I thought. At least I've never seen a ghost run out."

"Maybe it's just because you're new," grunted Sam.

"That's what I thought, too," Wes agreed, hardly noticing Sam's tone as he scrolled through a local news feed on his phone. "I can recharge if I move around enough, though. I went jogging this morning, so I have some power to spare right now. You guys wanna see?"

"Maybe after school," Danny cut in before Tucker could enthusiastically agree. "Someone could walk in and see you, and you nearly blinded me last time you used your powers."

"Did you now," Sam said with a quirked brow, unimpressed.

"Not on purpose," Wes pouted defensively. "I can at least control how bright I am now..."

"After school," Danny repeated. Wes huffed, focusing his attention back on his phone.

The classroom was silent for several minutes, save for Sam and Tucker discussing the class's homework. Danny laid his head down to work in a nap, and Wes quietly scrolled through his feed. Then without warning, he sprung to his feet, his free hand slamming down on the top of his desk. Sam and Tucker jumped, and Danny jolted awake, hands instinctively curling into fists.

"Fenton! Fenton, look at this!" Wes screamed, shoving his phone in Danny's face. The teen lowered his fists, leaning away from the device before reaching out to grab it. The screen was practically a wall of text, a story submission about an alien sighting on the border of Ionia, as far as he could tell. He skimmed the article, not really reading any of it, but he paused on the attached photograph. It depicted the Michigan sky, with a bright blue streak bisecting the view. It looked like it could have been a lightning strike, or a meteor.

Wes was quivering with excitement. "You see that? Someone caught a real life photograph of an alien spaceship, just a couple miles from here!" he cried ecstatically.

Danny narrowed his eyes disbelievingly, then peered at the image more closely. Something seemed off about it, and not just the fact that it looked like it could have been fabricated. "...Where did you say you were practicing again?"

"At the edge of town, by the woods. Why?"

Danny sighed in exasperation, then held the phone out for Wes to see. He zoomed in on the picture, showing that there was a vague but clearly humanoid form at the blunt end of the streak. "Any chance you could have gotten caught on camera?"

Wes took his phone back, a disappointed frown on his face. However, it quickly turned into wide-eyed delight. "...I'm a UFO," he breathed, voice barely above a whisper. Danny had the decency to cover up his amused snort. Tucker didn't bother.

And then Danny and Wes gasped, almost in unison, the latter nearly dropping his phone and the former's breath clouding in front of his face. The two blinked at each other, a silent understanding between them, and Danny groaned. "Oh, you've got to be kidding me."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally, we're getting into another action chapter. And this one should have some actual action in it, not just a bunch of running around like last time, haha.
> 
> Slowly delving into the inner workings of Wes's powers, and likely more to come soon. I was happy to learn that quite a few of you have been paying attention to the little bread crumbs I've left behind, and hope you continue to enjoy doing so. I've been using this story to try to get better at showing and not telling, and to leave hints more often rather than telling the audience everything, so it's been really awesome to see some of you gathering the evidence and forming your own conclusions.
> 
> And yes, I know light can't actually be black in any way we can perceive with the naked eye. But this is ghost light, so I get to bend the rules a bit. XD
> 
> I do already have an idea on how I want this next chapter to go, so I should hopefully have that done really soon!


	13. Hunted

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the wait. This chapter really didn't want to be written, but finally, here it is!

"Oh, you've got to be kidding me."

Sam and Tucker were already on their feet, determined frowns on their faces. "We'll get everyone out of the school," said Sam, the pair hurrying out of the room.

Wes's eyes darted to and fro, searching for some visible sign of ghost activity. Danny jumped out of his chair, startling the other teen as he let out his battle cry. "I'm going ghost!" Twin rings bisected his torso, and standing in his place was Phantom. "Get out of here, whoever it is I'll hold them off!"

Wes disregarded the command, instead staring at Danny incredulously. "...Okay, seriously. How has _nobody_ found you out yet?!"

"Does that really matter right now?!" Danny shouted back. He minutely turned his head, then leaped sideways, a net sailing by right where he had just been. Wes was not as fortunate, the net colliding and trapping him against the wall. He cried out in a mix of pain and alarm, and Danny turned to face their assailant. "Oh no..."

"Not the one I was aiming for," a deep voice rumbled, the ghost it belonged to appearing a second later, "but I'm sure I can work this to my advantage."

Danny narrowed his eyes, his feet leaving the ground as he floated into a battle-ready stance. "Skulker."

Wes gasped, his heart leaping into his throat. Skulker, the self-proclaimed greatest hunter in the Ghost Zone. And he wasn't just dangerous to ghosts; he was notoriously one of the most destructive spirits to frequent the town, causing more collateral damage than almost any other, and more than willing to jeopardize any stragglers to gain an advantage against Phantom. He was ruthless. Wes quivered, fearing what Skulker would do now that he had him helpless. No doubt something very, very painful.

It was then that Skulker seemed to recognize who he had trapped. "My my, you're the same human from before. And you seem to be in remarkable health, all things considered."

Wes stilled, and at the same time Danny's eyes glowed dangerously. He began slowly circling, Skulker following suit. "So you knew he was there," the Halfa growled. "You almost got him killed."

"Oh please, with an obsession like yours I knew he would be fine," Skulker grunted. "And would you look at that, I was right. But who knows, maybe this time I won't be so lenient."

Phantom's shoulders raised, then he shot Wes a sideways glance, eyes quickly flicking forwards and back. An indication to leave, cleverly disguised as a concerned look.

_...Duh, I have ghost powers! I can actually do something here!_

Wes waited until Skulker had his back turned, pacing evenly with Danny, before phasing backwards through the wall, away from the net. The moment he was through, he could hear the sound of lasers and grinding metal as battle commenced. It would be so easy for him to escape completely unnoticed. But at the same time, he found himself conflicted with the idea of leaving Danny to face the hostile ghost alone. Even if he still had no offensive abilities, he was sure he could make himself useful somehow. And should things get ugly, he had no doubt that Danny would keep him safe.

_Here comes another stupid idea._

After making sure the coast was clear, Wes transformed, then circled around so that he would come through a different wall than he had initially passed through. His fingertips were already twitching at the thought of facing off Skulker, his core blossoming and beating almost soothingly in his chest. He ignored the fear racing through his heart and leaped, dearly hoping he wouldn't get shot at in the process.

Fortunately, nothing came his way as he breached the wall, approaching from Skulker's left. The ghost had yet to realize he was there, but Danny had a clear view, eyes going wide as he realized what Wes was attempting. Noticing the look, Skulker turned his head almost in slow motion. Wes grinned brightly, in spite of his terror screaming at him to turn back. He ignored the feeling and cocked back his fist, his core practically thrumming with pent-up energy. Skulker didn't have time to react to Wes's presence as he quickly closed the distance, his fist landing a clean hit against the hunter's jaw.

There was a moment of stunned silence.

Wes screamed, keeling over and clutching at his quickly reddening hand. Skulker watched with dull surprise as the young ghost writhed on the ground. "Holy crap, what are you, made of metal?!" Wes exclaimed.

Danny was just as shocked as Skulker was, if far more exasperated by the intrusion. "What are you _doing?!_ " he hissed through clenched teeth.

"I'm helping!" Wes insisted, still curled around his hand.

Skulker blinked, looking to Danny for some sort of explanation. "I'm sorry, do you know this guy?"

Danny pinched the bridge of his nose. "Sorry, he's... You'll have to forgive him, he's new."

"Well don't tell him that!"

"A fledgling ghost," Skulker hummed, disinterested. He nudged Wes away with the toe of his boot. "Stay out of this, whelp. I have far more I interesting prey to deal with, and if you pester me like this again, you're next."

Wes scowled defiantly, then turned his head when Danny spoke. "Look, you really should just get out of here and let me handle him, Weeeeee-umm..." He faltered on the name, furrowing his brows.

Wes had prepared for a situation like this. He knew that, if he was going to make public appearances in his ghost form, he would need a name. And preferably one that had nothing to do with his actual name; he wasn't as stupid as a certain other Halfa, and wasn't willing to bank on the rest of the town being that dense. No, he'd run several possibilities through his head that he thought sounded cool enough for a ghost hero. It was after the tear in his jersey had sealed itself over with orange fabric, resembling a jagged W, that he made his final choice.

"...Wraith," he said, rising to his feet. "Wattson Wraith. And I'm not going anywhere."

Danny buried his face in his hands. "Oh, Ancients help me..."

Skulker looked mildly astonished by the adamant refusal, or maybe by the young ghost's stupidity, but it wasn't long before his expression settled into an irritated snarl. "...Fine, then. You've had your warning, boy, but if you aren't going to leave, then I'll just have to take you both out."

A hatch opened on Skulker's shoulder— definitely some sort of metal suit, then— and out of it emerged what looked like a box on a rod. A flap opened on the front, revealing an interior absolutely bristling with missiles. "...Oh, crud..."

Several missiles fired with a high-pitched whine, spiraling across the small classroom. Wes ducked and futilely covered his head, but Danny fired a disk of ectoplasmic energy, colliding with the closest of the missiles and setting off a harmless chain explosion. "Get out of here already!" he shouted over the din, already preparing a twin set of ectoblasts.

Wes nodded furiously, his tail flickering into existence as he turned around to make a break for it. But then he was grabbed from behind, Skulker swinging him by his new appendage before throwing him at Danny, the two hitting the wall before slumping in a dazed heap. Danny was the first one up, gritting his teeth and firing a concentrated blast. Skulker met it with one of his own, the source being a small cannon mounted on his wrist. Wes didn't give himself time to wonder how he could have hidden a weapon like that before he was scrambling to an upright position. He ignored the resounding _boom_ as the two beams destabilized each other, more focused on escaping with his hide intact.

Unfortunately, the fight seemed determined to follow him. Wings sprouted from a pack on Skulker's back, and he rocketed after Wes, yet another collapsible weapon firing a stream of ectobullets behind himself. Danny took pursuit, weaving around the projectiles. Wes nearly jumped out of his skin when a green bullet whizzed past him a second later, and he veered right to dodge the next. "Leave me alone, I'm going!" he cried over his shoulder.

"You already made your choice, and I'm going to enjoy mounting your head on my mantle!" Skulker shouted back, firing off another round of compressed bullets before taking aim at the Halfa he still had hot on his trail.

"Gross! I don't wanna decorate your wall!" Wes whined. He swerved around the oncoming fire, his center of gravity shifting so that he was slithering frantically along the wall. His eyes rapidly scanned the hallway in front of him, searching for a quick escape. He spotted a classroom that he knew had an exterior wall, and he slipped inside without bothering with the door. He yelped when it suddenly exploded inwards, another missile following behind the debris. He dodged it just in time, but the force of the ensuing explosion as it struck an empty desk threw him towards the wall, and he had barely enough presence of mind to turn intangible so that he harmlessly phased through to the other side.

Wes took a moment to right himself, breathing heavily and shaking with adrenaline. As he caught his breath, he wondered if he had managed to get away, if Skulker had been distracted enough not to notice where he went. But his hopes were dashed as the hunter himself fell through the wall, Danny right behind him, though Wes was pleased to see that one jetpack-like wing had been damaged, sending Skulker careening into the ground.

"And how about you stay down?" Danny quipped, crossing his arms as Skulker pulled himself to his feet. "It's two against one... even if I would _really_ prefer it was just one on one." He shot a pointed scowl Wes's way.

"I said I was leaving," the young Halfa grouched. And he nearly did, but then he saw Skulker raise one arm while Danny was still glaring, and was barely able to get a warning out as the hunter fired. A pair of bolas encircled the distracted teen, and he cried out as he was knocked out of the air, skidding against the packed earth. He tried to wriggle free, but he was wrapped up tight, the weighted ends keeping him pinned. By the way his form repeatedly blurred and solidified, he couldn't phase out of them, either.

"And now it _is_ one on one," Skulker countered smugly. "I'll deal with you later. I'm going to have a little fun with this one." He swiveled so that he was staring Wes down with a wicked grin. "What will you do now, whelp? Are you going to flee, or are you going to make this interesting and fight?"

Wes gulped. He wanted to run, really he did. He was stupid to think he could take on someone like Skulker. But he didn't think he could run, even if he wanted to. He was trapped by Skulker's gaze, frozen in place like a deer in a rifle's sights. His entire body was tense, screaming at him to flee and not look back. But he couldn't. Danny had gotten caught because of him, and wouldn't be getting free any time soon. If Wes left, there would be nothing stopping Skulker from having his way with him. Probably turning him into some gross taxidermy project, if his prior comments were anything to go by. Wes wasn't abandoning him to that fate, if he had anything to say about it.

...God, he was so screwed.

The Halfa glanced around, relieved to find this side of the school empty— the students had congregated at the front, as per ghost protocol— then balled his hands up into shaky fists, his tail writhing agitatedly. He didn't know how he was going to fight a ghost made of metal, but at the very least he could distract him long enough for Danny to get free.

Skulker was visibly delighted by the response. "How foolish, but maybe not as cowardly as I thought. Fine then, boy. Show me what you can do."

Wes kept his fists chest level, lowering himself to the ground and circling much like Danny had moments before, buying himself some time to think. Skulker had a lot of weapons, and he couldn't afford to get hit by any of them. Not when going intangible looked to be ineffective against them. But at the very least, it seemed that everything Skulker had at his disposal was long-range. He wouldn't be able to use them effectively if Wes stayed close. But what then? Punching didn't work, not when his physical strength was still at a human level. But that didn't mean Skulker couldn't be unbalanced. With how top-heavy he was, Wes could probably use his own weight against him somehow. The frantic beating of his core reminded him that he did have his aura at his disposal, too.

So that was the plan. Dodge, get in close, topple him, flash, get away, repeat. Waste as much time as possible. Simple enough.

Wes didn't wait for Skulker to make the first move. He shot forwards, keeping himself low to the ground. He slowed when the ghost raised his left hand, then darted to his opposite side when the cannon fired. The beam left a trail of scorched grass as it traveled, but Wes kept himself ahead of it, always staying on Skulker's pivoting side. Giving up on that weapon for the time being, the hunter dismissed it, a much thinner one protruding from his hip. Wes gasped, flying upwards in an arc as a narrow beam blasted the spot where he had just been. Skulker floated upwards, without the aid of his demolished thrusters, and turned in an attempt to strike Wes down with the laser, but the Halfa dipped and bobbed out of the way.

Alright, so at least dodging wasn't so bad. He could do this. He just needed an opening to get close.

And he soon found it. Seeing that the hip laser wasn't doing him any good, Skulker retracted it, readying another wrist-mounted weapon, this one with a three-pronged hook protruding from it. "Hold still already!" He fired the harpoon, and Wes avoided it without issue, confidently baring his teeth as he took the opportunity to close the distance. Skulker's eyes grew wide, and for the first time, Wes actually felt good about his chances. The hunter was practically a sitting duck, even as he reeled in the harpoon. Wes had already caught on to the fact that he only ever had one weapon out at a time; there was no way he would be able to switch in time before the Halfa was upon him. And even if he could, Wes was already too close. Nothing would be effective at that range.

Or so he thought.

Wes's tail dissolved and split, and he tucked in his new legs, momentum propelling him forward as he braced for a powerful dropkick. Skulker's hook fully retracted, and despite the alarm on his face, Wes suddenly got the gut feeling that something was wrong. He forcibly jerked himself backwards, and a sharp pain smarted across his shin. He hissed, not having to look down to know that he had a moderately sized gash on his left leg, oozing cool, thick ectoplasm rather than blood. He shuddered as he realized he could have lost his foot if he had kept going.

Skulker sneered, raising his gauntleted hand tauntingly, two wickedly sharp blades glinting in the morning light. Wes balked. Close-range weapons. Definitely not good.

He took a split second to look at Danny out of the corner of his eye. The Halfa hadn't made much progress. The weighted end of one bola was slightly undone, giving Danny just enough room to begin wriggling one arm free. It wasn't a lot, but it was something. He could get free, if Wes could keep Skulker busy long enough. It would just be harder than he first thought. Harder, but not impossible.

This time it was Skulker who moved first. He struck out as if attempting to skewer Wes, but the Halfa tugged himself sideways, dodging the attack by centimeters. Skulker swept the blades sideways, and Wes ducked, then hovered back as the ghost took another stab at him. Wes's legs twisted together, but then split apart again, and he let out a pained cry. Forming a tail would only stretch at the wound, it seemed. That meant his mobility was way down. As if he didn't have enough disadvantages already.

Skulker sensed his weakness, and chuckled darkly. "What's wrong, whelp? Is that tiny little scratch giving you a hard time? Don't worry, if you stay still I'll be sure to make this quick and easy for you."

The hunter slashed, and Wes dodged, but Skulker didn't let up. He wouldn't let Wes gain any meaningful distance, always staying no more than a couple paces away. He was determined to press his advantage, and it was all the young Halfa could do to avoid the bladed gauntlet. His chances of success were growing more dismal by the second.

Then to his surprise, Skulker aimed a second weapon, this one on the other wrist. Some sort of small, oddly shaped gun. He fired, and Wes dove to the side, but not quickly enough. A shot to the shoulder sent him spinning and falling to the ground. He probed at what he expected to be a searing wound, but instead found a sticky, gelatinous green glob. His prodding only earned him a stuck hand, which he was able to only pull a few inches away before it snapped back into place. "Oh, isn't this just fantastic..."

"You like it?" Skulker asked rhetorically. Wes scrambled to get up, ignoring his gash burning in protest, but Skulker planted one heavy boot on his stomach, winding him. "It's always been a favorite of mine for evasive ghosts like you. You won't be able to break free until it hardens, though I doubt one as twiggy as you could even manage that."

"Give me a minute, I'll be out of here before you know it, just watch me," Wes spat bravely, the effect mostly mitigated by his vividly violet freckles.

"Feisty, aren't you," Skulker smirked. He lifted his boot, and Wes didn't have time to try to sit up before he was being lifted, hoisted up by the front of his jersey. He gripped Skulker's wrist with his free hand, legs kicking uselessly at his armored torso. Skulker grinned, and whatever happened next, Wes just knew that it was going to be ugly and, most likely, very, very messy. "You should have run when you had the chance."

And then he let go.

Wes fell to the ground with an ungraceful _thud,_ then rushed to his feet before Skulker could pin him again, eyeing him with baffled caution. The hunter appeared equally confused, staring at a hand that twitched and spasmed briefly before he closed it in a fist, snarling in annoyance. "Stupid glitches. I thought I cleared all the bugs from my system ages ago..."

Wes didn't take the opportunity to get some space for granted. He took a few steps back to ensure that Skulker couldn't simply snatch him again, then cast another cursory glance at Danny. He had worked the bolas away from his arms and torso, and was in the process of detangling his legs. It would only take him a few more seconds. Wes grinned.

"Hey, Soul Patch!" he shouted, getting Skulker's attention. "Say cheese!" He trusted Danny to know to close his eyes. Wes's aura flared, the entire clearing lighting up a blinding blue.

Skulker yelled, staggering back and rubbing at his eyes as the beacon faded. He tried to blink away the bright spots wriggling in his vision, but it was pointless. He was still squinting when Danny opened the thermos, glaring daggers— or attempting to— as he was helplessly sucked inside.

Danny capped the thermos, looking to Wes with a concerned frown. "Are you okay?"

Wes opened his eyes, having screwed them shut in his concentration. When he opened them, they were a very typical shade of jade green. The rest of him was just as human. "...Yeah, I'm okay... Didn't mean to change back, though. You don't think he noticed, do you?"

"I doubt it. I don't think he was capable of noticing much of anything," Danny replied. He rested his hand over the goop on Wes's shoulder, freezing it over before letting it crumble with a careful punch. Wes rolled and rubbed at it to get some warmth back into it, nodding his thanks.

Danny's frown turned agitated, and he shoved Wes hard enough to make him stumble. "Next time I tell you to run, you _run,_ got it? You nearly got us both captured!"

"I thought I could handle him," Wes mumbled, keeping his eyes to the ground.

"You can't handle Skulker!" Danny shouted. "You're lucky you're fast enough to dodge him, but that isn't always going to save you. Next time it might not just be a net, or a cut, or a sticky trap. You could get seriously hurt. And I don't know if we're capable of dying anymore, but I really don't want to find out."

Wes stayed quiet for a long time, letting Danny's words sink in. The gash in his leg had long stopped bleeding, but it still stung. "...I just wanted to help..."

"Well, don't." Danny let the worry seep into his tone, but his face remained stern. "Until you start shooting lasers, or throwing fireballs, or can do something besides turn into a light-up mood ring, just... stay out of my ghost business, okay?" Wes nodded mutely. "...Go meet up with everyone else. If anyone asks, tell them you got that from some stray debris during the fight." He nodded once at the wound. "I'll be there in a minute, I'll tell them I hid in a closet or something."

Danny flew back towards the school, presumably to search for any students that might still be inside. Wes watched him go, despondent.

Suddenly, it didn't feel like much of a victory.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> God, you would not believe how hard this chapter fought me. The action just didn't want to be written. It turns out writing a Skulker fight is hard when he has little discernible fighting style other than missile spamming, and when Wes still has almost no fighting capabilities. So in the end it isn't really my best action scene ever, but at least the chapter is done, and we have an actual namedrop.
> 
> I'm gonna try to start up an in-character ask blog on Tumblr. Look for wattsonwraith!
> 
> I have a few ideas for the next couple of chapters, so hopefully those will write themselves much faster than this one did.


	14. Impulse

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we are with a really fast chapter! It looks like things may be speeding up again now that the roadblock that was Skulker is out of the way. It's a shorter one this time around, but it's also got some bonding and stuff, so hopefully that makes the shorter read worth it, haha.

Because of the disruption Skulker had posed, everyone was allowed to skip first period while the mayor's people repaired the school. Nobody was sure how everything looked brand new in less than an hour, but no one questioned it. All that mattered was that they lived in a town where a ghost demolishing half the building somehow didn't warrant going home. No questions, but lots of complaints.

Wes stayed quiet all through second and third period, absently picking at the scab that had already formed on his shin. He stared at the bruises that littered his arms, already mottled purple, and most well on their way to yellowing. Occasionally he prodded at one to see if it was tender. It wasn't. It was strange, how he felt almost no physical pain. Even his leg had stopped throbbing before second period was over. Even without his powers, it was odd to see such undeniable proof that he was something other than human.

Not that it had done anyone much good.

He wasn't very hungry by the time lunch rolled around, but he still grabbed himself a gray burger and a rubbery salad. Across the cafeteria, he could see Danny talking to Sam and Tucker. He couldn't tell what they were talking about from this distance, but whatever it was, Tucker seemed to find it funny. However, he could still clearly see the stripes and splotches of brown dotting Danny's arms and disappearing into his shirt sleeves. Bruises. Bruises he probably wouldn't have ended up with, if Wes hadn't gotten in his way.

The jock sighed through his nose, glancing back at his usual table. The rest of his team ate heartily, pieces of food flying during their own rowdy conversation. Then he looked at Danny's table, hunched his shoulders, and began walking.

He approached the group with uncertain footsteps, stopping a scant few feet away. He didn't sit down. They were a clique, and he had his own. To blatantly breach such a barrier without permission was practically taboo. And even if it wasn't, he didn't think they would want someone like him sitting anywhere near them.

Just as he was rethinking his decision, Sam looked up and noticed him, a guarded frown on her face. Then Danny looked up, and then Tucker, wearing twin expressions of curiosity. Wes clammed up under their scrutiny, and he shifted his tray over to one hand so that the other could muss his hair.

"...I'm sorry."

Sam and Tucker blinked, and Danny thoughtfully pursed his lips. Nobody said anything, but Wes chose to elaborate anyway. "...You had Skulker handled back there, and I jumped in and made things worse. I thought my powers would be enough, and they weren't, and I almost got you in trouble because of it. So I'm sorry."

Danny tilted his head, quirking one brow. "You're... apologizing?"

Wes huffed. "Yeah. I messed up bad, and I'm owning up to it."

"What did you do?" asked Tucker, wearing the ready smile of one eager for gossip.

"This idiot tried to punch out Skulker," Danny replied. Tucker chuckled, and Sam hid her face behind one hand, though it failed to cover the smirk she was fighting off. "But get this. He had this whole dramatic moment, with a James Bond introduction and everything. And that was _after_ he picked himself off the ground because he hurt his hand."

That had Tucker and Sam both bust out laughing, Danny wearing a grin as he told them what happened. Wes spluttered, going red in the face. "...You're making fun of me! I apologized to you, and you're making fun of me!"

"Yeah? You deserve it," said Danny, as cheeky as ever. Wes frowned, scrunching up his nose, but he couldn't find it in him to be too upset. However he searched, he couldn't find any lingering irritation on Danny's face, so maybe, just maybe, that was Danny's way of forgiving him.

Danny must have noticed his uncertainty, because his smile lost its teasing edge and softened, and he tipped his head to indicate he should sit down. Tucker scooted over to make some room. Wes's brows shot up, and he opened and closed his mouth. When he didn't move, Danny nodded to the open seat again. This time Wes took the invitation and sat down across from him, suddenly finding his food really interesting.

"...So. Wattson Wraith, huh?" Danny prompted after a while.

Wes hummed and looked up, pausing in his attempts to stab a tomato with his fork. "Hm? Yeah, that's gonna be my ghost name."

"What inspired a name like that?" Sam droned. "Any chance you took it from a certain mystery book?"

"What, you mean like the sidekick? No way," Wes snorted. "I just knew it had to be something that started with a W. It's got that name-ghost thing going on, has nothing to do with my actual name, because that would be _dumb,_ " he gave Danny a pointed look, who smiled and shrugged good-naturedly, "and it's alliterative. So it's basically the best hero name ever."

"Wait, so you mean Wattson _isn't_ supposed to sound like Weston?" Tucker inquired.

Wes furrowed his brows, frowned, then slammed his forehead against the edge of the table. "...The idiocy in this town is contagious," he groaned.

"You could always change it," Sam pointed out.

"No I can't, I already told Skulker that was my name," Wes whined in reply. Tucker reassuringly pat him on the back.

The group ate their meals in peaceful silence for a few minutes before Wes blurted out a question. "Hey Fenton. What did-"

"You can call me Danny, you know," the teen cut him off.

Wes blinked. "...Okay... Danny," he tested the name. "What did Skulker mean by obsession?"

"Really? I'd think you would know all about that," Sam teased. Wes scowled and flushed.

Danny rubbed the back of his head, looking a tad sheepish. "Oh, I didn't realize you caught onto that."

"Of course I did, I always pay attention," Wes replied. "What did he mean by that? You never struck me as someone who would be obsessed with anything. Except space, maybe."

"I should have known you would notice something like that," Danny chuckled. "Well, it's sort of a ghost thing. Every ghost has something they're obsessed with. I'm not sure why, it's kind of just how they are. Maybe it has to do with whatever they were interested in when they were alive, at least for the ones who used to be. Or maybe it acts as something to focus on to help them hold their form. I have no idea."

"Really?" Wes hummed, resting his elbows on the table. "And you have an obsession, too? Even though you already have a form?"

"...Yeah," said Danny. "I don't think it's exactly the same, though."

"Are you gonna tell me what it is?" Wes asked, leaning closer to listen.

Danny leaned back, wrinkling his nose. "Okay, asking a ghost about their obsession is really rude. But, it's not like you would know that," he sighed. "I'm not a hundred percent sure, but I think it has something to do with heroics."

Wes snorted. "Gee, maybe the jumpsuit should have clued me in."

That pulled a quiet chuckle out of Danny. "Nah, that's just sheer coincidence. Ghost hunter family, remember? We all have jumpsuits. Mine just has a logo on it."

"You're welcome," Sam harrumphed, smirking.

"...Do _I_ have an obsession?" Wes wondered aloud.

"Definitely," Tucker interjected. "Every ghost has one, and even though you shouldn't ever really ask a ghost what theirs is, it's usually something pretty obvious. If you haven't figured yours out already, then you probably will pretty soon."

"I bet it's Danny," Sam snarked, taking a bite of her veggie burger.

Wes choked on his chocolate milk, most of it spraying out of his nose. He was blushing so hard he was almost purple. "WHAT?! I am _not_ obsessed with Fen... Danny!"

"Could have fooled me," tittered Tucker. "It's not like you were popping out of bushes snapping pictures of him all last year."

" _I wasn't obsessed, and I'm still not!_ " Wes hissed, somehow turning even redder.

Danny was hiding his face behind his arms. The tips of his ears were a bright pink. "You guys are going to kill me," he moaned.

"You're already halfway there. We're going to finish you off," Sam corrected him. Danny groaned louder.

"In all seriousness though, figuring out your ghostly obsession is probably a good idea," Tucker said, wiping a stray tear from his eye. "It's supposed to be good for you."

"I swear to god if you try to tell me _spending time with Danny_ will be good for me," Wes growled.

"I didn't say it," Tucker singsonged.

"Tucker, do us all a favor and shut up," Danny warned. His friend cackled. "But, he's kind of right. Indulging in an obsession is... therapeutic, in a way. It's soothing. It even makes some ghosts stronger. And of course, it's way easier if you already know what your obsession is."

"Woah," breathed Wes, leaning back in his seat. "No wonder you're so strong, then. Your thing is heroics, and you save the city almost every day."

"It might be a Halfa thing, too," Danny said. "Obsession or not, ghosts don't usually develop so many different powers. They're usually connected to the obsession somehow."

"You have a power for almost any situation you could possibly end up in, which is great if you want to save people," Sam pointed out. "I would say that's pretty connected." Danny shrugged sheepishly.

"So if I figure out my obsession, I'm gonna get stronger?" asked Wes.

"Not all at once," Danny replied. "You're already going to be getting stronger just because your core hasn't fully developed yet. After that, any sort of development is slow going, if it happens at all. But at least you'll have a go-to if you feel stressed out or whatever."

"A good place to start is paying attention to your habits," Tucker informed him. "If you notice yourself doing anything out of character, especially if it's consistent, that's usually a pretty big clue."

Wes nodded in understanding. "I haven't really noticed anything so far, but I'll definitely be paying attention."

The bell signaling the end of lunch sounded off, and Danny let out a low whistle, holding up his empty tray. "Man, how lucky is that? No ghosts interrupting my lunch. When does that ever happen?"

"Not nearly often enough," said Sam, rounding up her waste in a paper sack.

"Maybe it's because we've got a good luck charm at our table now," Tucker grinned, elbowing Wes's side. "Wherever this guy is, ghosts sure aren't."

"Oh, shut up," Wes huffed, shoving his shoulder. "But... you're really okay with me sitting with you guys?"

Danny shrugged. "I don't mind. You're actually not too bad when you aren't trying to expose me."

"And hey, if you're willing to commit social suicide just by being seen around us, that's on you," Tucker added.

Wes looked back to his regular table, where his teammates were in the midst of cleaning up their trash. If they had noticed his absence, none of them showed it. Wes's smile was lopsided, small. "...I doubt anyone really cares who I hang out with, anyway."

"At least you'll never have a boring day ever again," said Sam.

"Pfft, like there's such thing as a boring day at Amity Park."

"True that," Tucker agreed.

And with that, the four made their way to their separate classes. Wes grinned to himself in the hallway as he thought about his interaction with the group. He had never had anyone to hang out with at school that wasn't part of a sports team, anyone who would talk to him outside of obligation. But those three, despite a very rocky start, had welcomed him to their table without question. They spoke to him how they spoke to each other, like a mutual rather than a third wheel. They teased poked fun at him, but it didn't feel mean. Even Sam hadn't outright cursed him. They treated him with a kindness he had learned not to expect. If he dared to think it, it looked like he might have made actual friends.

Things were really starting to look up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Truth be told, I had this fully written yesterday, but I made myself wait to post it so it wouldn't come out immediately after 13, haha.
> 
> I have a couple ideas to pull from for chapter 15, but I've got a biggish chapter planned 3 or 4 chapters from now that I'm looking forward to showing you guys. So I'll keep chugging away, and hope to see you again soon!


	15. Hosting

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bringing in another power chapter this time around. I snuck in some hints and allusions to a few different things, so have fun picking this chapter apart lmao

Danny left Casper High more than an hour after the last class had ended, covered in paper cuts. The Box Ghost had attacked between fourth and fifth period, armed with several boxes of notebooks and printer paper. The fight had been short-lived— and Wes had stayed out of it, as promised— but Danny got caught shortly after changing back in a teacher's office. He got accused of tampering with paperwork, and was subsequently stuck with after-school detention. Not that Danny had a better explanation to offer as to why the office was littered with torn and smoldering paper. But it was still unfair, if you asked him.

He was just wondering what excuse he would come up with for all of his scratches when he got home, or if he needed to at all, when Wes jogged up behind him. Danny furrowed his brows, but then remembered that Wes usually had practice after school. It would make sense that he would be leaving at around the same time. But why would he be following him instead of heading home?

Wes quickly caught up to him, slowing down once they were shoulder to shoulder. "You end up in detention again?"

Danny sighed. "Yeah. Lancer found me in his office after I beat the Box Ghost. The place was trashed, so of course he saw me there and thought I did it."

Wes chuckled, but his smile was a little tight. "You gotta be more careful. One of these days you might actually get caught." Danny rolled his eyes, well aware of the risks transforming in a public space entailed. But this didn't feel like Wes teasing, so he stayed quiet. There was more to his words than that.

Sure enough, Wes's smile faltered, then fell. He kept his eyes on the sidewalk at their feet, his hands tightening their grip on his backpack straps. "...Look. I never apologized for... for before."

"Before?" Danny parroted, shooting him a curious look.

"Before I became a ghost," Wes clarified. "All those times I tried to tell everyone what you really were. I could have put you in real danger. There would have been nowhere safe for you if I'd succeeded, and I was doing it over something so petty. I did promise not to do it anymore, but... I never said sorry. So I'm saying it now. I'm sorry."

"Wes..." Danny breathed. He gave the teen a lopsided smile. "You really don't have to apologize for that. You couldn't have known."

"But I want to," Wes argued. "Whether I knew or not, that could have been really bad. I shouldn't have done it."

"It's okay," said Danny. "I understand."

"...Okay. Thanks."

The two walked towards Danny's house in peaceful silence. The autumn sun was already beginning to set, washing everything in a sepia glow. Wes hummed quietly, thoughtful. "...There's still something I don't quite get."

"Hm?" Danny glanced at him.

"You told me today you had a hero obsession," said Wes. Danny remained silent, nodding in perplexed acknowledgement. "So what was the deal with the mayor? And the robberies?"

"Oh." Danny slowed as he recalled the events in question. "Remember when Circus Gothica came into town? Freakshow's staff could brainwash ghosts. He caught me, and made me steal things for him so it couldn't be traced back to him. Everything did get returned, though, thanks to Sam.

"That time with the mayor? That was Walker trying to set me up. You know, the guy in all white with the fedora? He overshadowed the mayor, and framed me for kidnapping him. He grabbed me, not the other way around."

"Overshadowing?" asked Wes.

"Possession," Danny rephrased. "Ghosts can take over a person's body and mind, if their willpower is strong enough." He grimaced. "I don't really like doing it. It feels kinda... personal."

"So you've overshadowed people before?" Wes asked.

"Again with the rude questions. A little tact wouldn't kill you," Danny grumped, shoving his shoulder to indicate he wasn't actually angry. "...But yeah. I've had to overshadow people a few times." He paused, rubbing his chin. "...Actually, I should probably teach you how to do it. It could come in handy."

"...You want to teach me how to control people?" Wes questioned, frowning.

"I'm not saying you should run around taking people over," Danny huffed. "But you can have more than one ghost overshadowing someone. And if your hold on a person is stronger than the other ghost's, you can use that to force them out. It's like, exorcizing evil spirits or something. Same idea."

"Oh... And you're gonna show me how to do it? I thought saving people was more _your_ thing."

"You've already made it pretty clear you're going to keep taking on enemies you can't handle," Danny said dryly. "The least I can do is give you a better shot at it."

Wes pouted and crossed his arms. "...Okay. Are we going to the usual spot?"

"Yep." Danny changed course, and Wes followed him. When they reached the woods, Danny turned to face his student, clapping his hands with finality.

"Okay. So this is something that can be done in either form, so whichever you're most comfortable doing this in will be fine." Wes considered that for a moment, then transformed; it made more sense to practice a ghost power in ghost form. "Overshadowing itself isn't hard. The tricky part is maintaining it once you're there, but I won't be trying to kick you out, so you can figure things out at your own pace."

"Woah, woah, wait a minute," Wes cut him off. "You aren't going to walk me through it first? Like, demonstrating or something?"

Danny's eyebrows shot up. "You _want_ me to overshadow you?"

Wes's shoulders hunched. "W-Well, that wasn't what I meant, but..."

"Being overshadowed is different from doing the actual overshadowing," Danny told him. "I'll show you what that feels like after this if you want me to, but it won't help you actually overshadow someone. So for now I'll tell you how to do it, and let you puzzle things out from there."

Wes gulped, turning an anxious orange. Had he been given such an opportunity a month ago, he would have jumped at the chance. He could only imagine what intimate secrets he could learn about Danny, secrets he could very easily exploit. Heck, he could pose as the guy and announce his spectral status to the world, if he wanted. But now, the idea of possessing Danny felt intrusive in a way he couldn't even begin to describe.

And yet here he was, literally handing Wes the potential to do just that. A potential he had no intention of utilizing, sure. But that level of trust wasn't lost on him. If Danny believed in him, trusted him with whatever he could end up learning, then he wasn't going to squander it.

"...Okay. Tell me what to do."

Danny nodded. He looked about as nervous as Wes felt. "This'll be simple enough for you, I think. All you have to do is go intangible, fly into me, and become tangible again."

"...Really?" Wes wrung his hands. "You won't explode or something?"

Danny snorted. "No, I won't explode. It's like, you'll sort of just fill out where there's room, or something. It's really hard to explain, but it'll make sense when you try it."

Wes chewed on his lip, brows furrowing with worry. "...Okay, if you're sure. But if something's wrong you'll tell me, right?"

"Promise."

Swallowing nervously, Wes floated upwards, his form blurring at the edges. Without giving himself time to think, he flew towards Danny, passing straight through him and letting himself solidify within.

Only, he never really became solid. Instead, he felt himself waver and spread thin, like a fast-moving fog. There was a long moment where his whole body felt like it was doused in ice water, and he nearly fled from Danny at the biting sensation. But Danny had said that possession was a battle of wills. So instead of recoiling, he pushed back, form spreading once more. The cold feeling faded, leaving behind nothing but a faint chill in his bones. If he really had bones at the moment.

Wes opened his eyes, very much aware that he had never closed them. The first thing he became aware of was that colors seemed wrong. Reds were brighter, greens were duller. The differences were slight, being just barely apparent enough for Wes to notice.

The next thing he realized was that things were quiet. Much quieter than he was used to. The various woodland sounds played in the background of his awareness, his attention only briefly being drawn to one thing before moving to the next, until even that had been exhausted. Even his own body was quiet. He didn't realize how prominent his heartbeat was until he could no longer hear it.

Wes raised his right hand to measure his pulse, distinctly aware of how muscles shifted under the skin, familiar and yet ever so slightly different. It didn't take long for him to find his pulse, and measure it at a mellow, steady forty beats. His Adam's apple bobbed in his throat as he breathed and swallowed, so much smaller than his own.

Right. This wasn't his body. This was Danny's.

The moment he remembered that, he became aware of several little discrepancies where he didn't expect to find them. A small chip in a molar. The absence of an ache in his shoulder from an old injury. A slight delay when he tried to move the fingers on his left hand. Clothes clinging to him differently. His weight settling in strange ways. So many little things that Wes would have thought easy to miss, and yet somehow they all felt so obvious.

_How does it feel?_ asked a small voice in the back of his head. Danny.

"...It's weird," Wes said aloud, startled to find that he still sounded like himself. He was using Danny's vocal cords, wasn't he? "It's really different from what I expected. I mean, I didn't expect to still be able to talk to you."

_Normally you can't,_ Danny told him. _Ghosts generally try to suppress as much of the host as possible. But you aren't doing that, so I'm still aware of everything you're doing. You can sort of pick and choose what you and I can perceive, if you concentrate._

Wes hummed, rubbing his— Danny's— fingers together. Fingers that were rougher than his own, tips scraping against a callused palm. He breathed deeply, smelling soil and rainwater around him. The cool autumn air nipped at his lungs, and he fought back a shiver. He had never done well with cold weather. And yet, when he rubbed at his arms, he couldn't find a single trace of goosebumps. Though his own body would have been covered in them, Danny's didn't seem bothered in the slightest. Wes supposed that made sense, considering he had ice powers.

Deciding he had stood there long enough, he stepped forwards, then stumbled and nearly collapsed when his foot hit the ground sooner than he expected it to. "Holy crap, your legs are short!"

_I'll have you know my legs are perfectly average,_ Danny huffed. _You're just freakishly tall._

"My height is _not_ freakish," Wes huffed. "And why in the world do I still sound like me?! I'm in your body, shouldn't I sound like _you?!_ " He felt a sudden wave of indifference, which he chose to interpret as a mental shrug. He cleared his throat, letting his voice drop in pitch as he did so. When he opened his mouth again, he sounded less like himself and more like the teen he was possessing. "There, that's a little better... but now it's weird because I'm using your voice!"

_No matter what you do it's going to feel pretty weird,_ Danny told him, _and frankly it feels weird hearing you sound like me._ _But hey, at least you're figuring things out._

"...Huh. I guess I am." And Wes was sure he had barely scratched the surface. Did he have access to Danny's powers like this? Did he still have access to his own? Were the more basic powers available to him? What did he look like right now? He knew that overshadowing usually affected the voice and eyes. What did his eyes look like? If they were his own pinpricks of light, could he turn them blue like Danny's, just like he changed his voice? How about his senses? Sound and color was definitely a bit different for Danny than it was for himself. Could he align his sense of equilibrium with Danny's to make moving around easier? Did Danny's body have its usual limitations with speed and flexibility, or did they line up with Wes's?

_Woah, that was a lot of thoughts all at once,_ Danny groaned.

Wes paused. "...Are you reading my mind?"

_No, but I'm getting sort of an impression of it,_ Danny replied. _Enough to know that it's brainstorming a mile a minute. You aren't exactly hiding it._

"Oh... Er, sorry about that. I'm just trying to figure out what I can and can't do like this. How much of this overshadowing thing is me, and how much is you."

_It's mostly you, but you can kind of give and take with this sort of thing. It's pretty versatile. I just ask that you don't try and tap into any of my ghost powers. You might accidentally make me transform, and trust me, a ghost overshadowing another ghost doesn't work out how anybody wants it to._

"Yikes, noted." So Danny's powers were off the table, not that Wes intended to try using them anyway. But he himself was already in ghost form. Were his own powers safe to use? Were his more passive abilities still in effect, namely whatever allowed him to build core energy? Until he got moving, there was no way to know for sure.

So he began walking. Once he got a proper feel for Danny's gait, he sped into a jog, and then an easy run. Confusion that wasn't his swirled in his stomach. _Wait, what are you doing? Where are we going?_

"I just want to see something," Wes replied, keeping his eyes straight ahead. He grew more confident with each step, and soon his legs were pumping full force. But he wasn't fast enough. Danny's body, while athletic, wasn't built to run. But his was. He knew he could go faster. And he did, his strides growing longer and longer.

Another confused vocalization rang at the back of his mind, barely audible over the sound of Wes's footsteps. Ice began creeping into his very being, pulsing from the center of his chest. He forced the chill back, heeding Danny's warning, and in its place he felt a familiar, heated thrum. Even without a tangible heart to beat, Wes became intimately aware of the presence of his own core, cascading and swelling like it had a heart of its own. A wave of anxiety washed over him, but it was quickly drowned out by his own exhilaration. He had no reason to feel scared. He'd forgotten how good this power felt, wanted to bask in it.

Wes let out a loud whoop, unaware that his own voice was starting to seep through. A fear that he couldn't explain crept up his throat, and once again he pushed it back. Unbidden, his already light skin paled, losing its reddish warmth as it took on a light green hue. Chartreuse freckles beaded on its surface, splashing across his face and arms and dotting the backs of his hands. Caught up in the excitement of his core energy building, Wes was completely unaware of the changes. But Danny was not.

"...Stop..." they wheezed, skidding to a halt. "No... Get out!" Hands clutched at their hair, and then their chest. An overwhelming chill wormed its way to the surface, writhing beneath their ribs. Their skin squirmed and rippled painfully as Danny fought for control with a tenacity Wes didn't expect. Pressure built up in his insides, and though his instincts screamed at him to fight it back and suppress it, he instead let it consume him, until with a sensation like a snapping rubber band, he was forcibly ejected from Danny's body, the pair left sprawling on the ground and gasping for breath.

Wes groaned, sitting up and rubbing at his head as he attempted to relieve the fog that had taken up residence in his brain. He shook himself, focusing his attention on his prior host. "...Danny?"

Danny was upright, his legs tucked close to his chest. He was breathing quickly, clutching at his hand and examining it almost frantically. It had returned from its ghostly pallor to something more natural, and was no longer blemished with Wraith's luminous speckles. Seeing that he was looking at his own hand, one not overlaid with another's features, he sighed in relief, resting his forehead against his knees.

Wes swallowed thickly, scooting closer. "...Danny? Are you okay?" When he didn't get a response, he worried his lip, getting close enough that he could almost see the sweat beading on Danny's hairline. "...What happened back there? What's wrong?"

This time, Danny moved, shifting so that his chin was resting on his knees. He wouldn't look at Wes, although whatever had come over him seemed to have passed, leaving him visibly drained. "...It wasn't anything, really. I overreacted."

Wes frowned, nudging his elbow. "You promised to tell me if something was wrong."

"...You're right, I did," Danny conceded with a sigh. "It really was just an overreaction. It's normal for someone who's overshadowed to start looking like the ghost possessing them if they're exerting enough control. But..."

"Oh..." Wes stared at his feet. "...I'm sorry, I didn't realize. I knew one of us was nervous, but I didn't know it was _you,_ so I kept pushing and pushing... I didn't think I had that much control over you at the time. I didn't know."

"It's okay, I know you didn't," Danny reassured him. "It was your first time, so I didn't expect you to know what to look for. Overshadowing is a confusing thing, and it takes time to figure it out."

"...Well," Wes decided, "if I ever have to possess you again for whatever reason, I'll pay more attention. The second something feels wrong, I'll stop, and I'll ask you what you need me to do different."

Danny managed a weak chuckle at that. "I don't think it'll ever come to that, but I appreciate it." He smiled, but it didn't quite reach his eyes. There was more to his fear than merely being unwittingly silenced by someone who he knew would have done him no harm. Wes would have asked him about it, but Danny got to his feet, offering Wes a hand up. "Why don't we pick this back up another time? It's been a long day."

Wes hummed in agreement. Between his fight with Skulker and possessing Danny, he felt like he could sleep for days. "Alright. I'll see you at school tomorrow, then."

Danny nodded, transforming and floating above the treeline. Wes joined him, then jetted towards home, glimmering brightly once he was a safe distance away. Danny turned and flew towards FentonWorks, fighting an involuntary shudder. He rubbed his hands down his face, more to assure himself that it was _his_ than to actually try to wipe away his exhaustion.

Although, after the day he'd had, he could definitely stand to get a good night's rest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Only a couple more chapters to go, and then I'll be writing one of the chapters I've been looking forward to practically since conceptualizing Wraith. Until then, let's see if I can squeeze in another development/bonding chapter or two!


	16. Confide

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've had this chapter sitting for a little while because I needed to tweak some dialogue to make it a tad less monotonous, and I was terrified that I would have to rewrite it. But alas, I didn't have to, dialogue got tweaked, and here we are.
> 
> Good news! The wattsonwraith blog got picked up by #thesquad, and the blog phabulousdantom has also been made! Both blogs will still revolve around the fic, but please know that interactions with #thesquad will be considered noncanon. WW-related posts will be tagged accordingly.

Tuesday was a fairly ordinary day. Wes attended his classes like normal, got a decent but lackluster test score in his math class, and watched Danny get roped into fighting a ghost or three. All in all, it was a rather bland day.

But Wes couldn't get yesterday's incident out of his head. Danny had been really upset. Not angry, he had made that very clear. But he was definitely more shaken than he'd let on. And Wes wasn't sure whether that was because Danny knew it had been an unintentional event, or because he just didn't want to hurt Wes's feelings. Either way, he didn't want to scare Danny like that again.

He needed to make things right. And to do that, he needed to figure out what had bothered Danny so much.

Wes sat at his usual table for lunch that day. But the second the bell ending it rang, he got up and made his way over to Danny's table, catching him as he was dumping his trash. The Halfa nodded in greeting, smiling. "Hey, I didn't see you at lunch. What's up?"

Wes frowned at his empty tray, swaying from foot to foot. "...Can we talk? After school?"

Danny furrowed his brows. "...Um, yeah. About what?"

"About yesterday." Danny pursed his lips, putting his tray away as an excuse to avert his eyes. "...Please. I have practice today, but after that I think it's really important that we talk about what happened."

"It won't happen again," Danny said with a nonchalance that Wes could see right through.

"...I won't make you talk about it if you really don't want to," Wes conceded. "But... But I hurt you, and I don't want to hurt you like that again. I know that there was more to it than making you look different, so I don't know that... _whatever_ it was that had you so rattled won't happen again if you don't tell me."

Danny chewed on his lip, his eyes glued to the tray he had set down. He was quiet for a long time, long enough that Wes was sure that he would refuse. But then he sighed, his shoulders raising to his ears before slumping. "...Okay. After practice. Meet me behind the school."

Wes nodded, finally remembering to discard his own tray. "Behind the school. Okay."

The last few classes of the day crawled by at an agonizing pace. Danny was more reserved than usual in their shared classes, and was nowhere to be found during practice. Wes was almost certain that he had changed his mind and headed home. And yet, when he walked around to the back of the school, there Danny was, leaning against the wall with his hands shoved in his pockets. He looked over, and Wes joined him, sliding down the wall until he was sitting. After a moment of hesitation, Danny did the same.

Several minutes went by without a word. Wes wasn't sure where to start. Danny looked like he could get up at any moment. But he didn't, and he was the one to break the silence. "...So. About yesterday."

"...Yeah."

Another moment of silence. Danny's jaw shifted side to side as he mulled over his words. "...Do you believe in time travel?"

Wes looked over, caught off-guard by the question. "Huh? Well... I mean, yeah. Even if we can't do it now, I'm sure we'll figure it out. If the government doesn't already have the tech to do it."

Danny snorted. "I wouldn't be surprised. It's definitely possible, and it's been done before. They wouldn't be the first."

Wes stared. "...No. You have not time travelled."

"Actually, I have. A couple times, even." Danny grinned, his lopsided smile showing the barest hint of teeth.

"Hm... I guess you wouldn't lie about that..." Wes admitted. "But what does that have to do with yesterday?"

Danny's smile fell, and he tucked up his legs, wrapping his arms around them. "...I've seen the future. Nine years from now. Do you know what's there?" He didn't, but Danny wasn't finished. "...Nothing. Everything is ruined, and almost everyone is dead. Even the Ghost Zone is in shambles. There's just nothing left." He stared straight ahead, where the sun was starting to set. "...Because I destroyed it all."

"...What?" Wes didn't understand. It was hard enough to wrap his head around the idea that Danny had somehow travelled through time. But he was a hero. And here he was, saying he had committed interdimensional genocide. Danny wasn't evil, it didn't make any sense.

"Well, part of me, anyway," Danny went on, his voice in a near-monotone. "In another timeline, I lost just about everyone I was ever close to. I ended up giving up my humanity, and my ghost half fused with another ghost in the process. Ended up destroying everything. I managed to stop the incident that killed everyone in this timeline, but..." He paused, taking in a shaky breath. "...But I could still become that version of myself. And that scares me. A lot."

Danny had a point, Wes was sure of it. What he'd said was beyond horrifying, and something about being overshadowed was connected to that, had left Danny so terrified that he had been clambering to escape. Wes recounted his words, trying to find the detail that the two incidents shared. "...You fused with a ghost. Is that anything like overshadowing?"

"...Kind of, I think," Danny replied quietly. "I think it started with my ghost half possessing the other ghost. One took over the other, and they became something new. Something terrible."

"...It was the changing," Wes realized. "You weren't scared of me overshadowing you. You were scared of me taking over and changing you."

"Which is stupid, because looking different is _normal,_ " Danny cut in. "And I knew you wouldn't have done anything bad. But... yeah. I was scared."

"Danny..." Wes breathed. "...I had no idea..."

Danny huffed and smirked, but there was no humor behind the action. "Of course not. Why would you ever even suspect something like that?"

"...If you knew I could make you look different," Wes began, "then why would you let me overshadow you? Why would you offer?"

Danny shrugged. "Someone had to teach you. You needed to learn."

Wes frowned and wrung his hands, struggling to understand the justification. "...But I didn't. I have no reason to use a power like that. You didn't have to teach me. But you did it anyway, even though you knew it could hurt you."

Danny scowled. "...Fine, I didn't technically _have_ to teach you. But I'm responsible for you, in a way. Even if you never end up overshadowing anybody, I need to make sure you know how to use your powers."

"...Is that what this is about?" asked Wes. "You put yourself through that because you feel like you owe it to me?" Danny didn't reply, and Wes shook his head. "You don't owe me anything."

"But it's my fault you almost died," Danny said shortly, "and it's my fault you got wrapped up in my ghost business."

"Okay, first of all, me almost dying was Skulker's fault, not yours," Wes snipped back. "And second, I've always been wrapped up in your ghost business. That's not a new thing, and it definitely isn't your fault."

Danny paused, briefly startled by the sudden brash tone. After a moment, he smiled, some of his amusement shining through. "...Okay, _maybe_ that part is kind of your fault."

Wes chuckled, and then sobered. His gaze focused on nothing in particular as he picked out his next words. "...For real, though. Just because I have powers now, doesn't mean I want you to stress yourself out teaching me how to use them. I mean, if you were able to get your powers figured out by yourself, then I can figure mine out on my own too, right?"

"But I-"

"Would you just shut up that hero complex of yours for a minute?" Wes cut him off. "I mean it. I know I can count on you if I need help, but you need to think about yourself sometimes too. I just... I don't want you hurting yourself for me, alright?" Danny adamantly stared at the ground, and didn't say a word. Wes chose to interpret that as him considering it. It wasn't an outright no, at least.

"...And hey. I'm not gonna tell you to just not be scared, because you probably will be no matter what I say. But if it means anything, I won't ever overshadow you without asking first. And I'll pay attention, and back off if you need me to. And I definitely won't turn you into some evil future ghost maniac."

That pulled a more genuine snort out of Danny. "I know you won't, but I guess it does make me feel a bit better to hear you say it... And thanks."

Wes smiled. "Well, yeah. I don't want you to be scared like that again. So I can at least try to make it a little less scary, right?"

Danny looked at him, then, really looked at him. Never in a million years would he have expected such earnestness from Wes. He wasn't unaccustomed to such assurances, not really. He had confided in Sam, Tucker, and Jazz about his alternate self on more than one occasion. He was used to being told "it's okay," or "that won't ever happen." But in another timeline, it had, and in his it almost did. All those reassurances were empty, when they promised something they could never truly uphold.

But this was new. Wes's promises weren't empty. He might not have had more than an abridged version of the story, but still, he had offered actual solutions. Solutions with Danny's comfort in mind. There were none of those sympathetic platitudes that couldn't mean much of anything. Instead, he'd suggested a boundary intended to address the problem, so that it hopefully wouldn't become one at all. It wasn't a lot, but Wes's words put Danny at ease in a way that his friends just couldn't. And to think they were coming from the guy who was hounding him for photographs and DNA samples less than a month ago.

"...Thanks for telling me," Wes said. "I know you didn't really want to, but I'm still glad you did."

"Pfft, you would have kept asking if I didn't," Danny snarked.

"I would not have," Wes pouted. "I already said you didn't have to tell me anything."

"Oh, so you would have just tried to study it out of me instead."

"Hey!" Wes squawked indignantly. He opened his mouth to refute the statement, but then he realized Danny was laughing. Laughing at his expense. Though he was definitely making fun, Wes couldn't find it in himself to be upset. It was good to hear Danny chuckle, after the conversation they'd just had.

Eventually Danny settled down, wiping a stray tear from his eye. "Well, I'd better get home before Jazz starts worrying about me."

Wes nodded. "Yeah, and I've got some homework I need to catch up on." He got up, and then as an afterthought added, "My next game is on Friday. You can come watch, if you want."

Danny got to his feet as well, an easy smile on his face. "Sure, as long as no ghosts show up I should be able to make it."

Wes grinned. "And I'm gonna make the winning shot this time, you'll see."

Danny snickered. "I sure hope you do, otherwise I might start thinking you secretly suck at basketball." Wes swatted his arm, but his smile was still plastered on his face.

The sun dipped below the skyline, and Wes shivered, saying a quick farewell before hurrying home. Danny was in no rush. He took his time heading to FentonWorks, smiling to himself all the while, and feeling more content than he had all day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next time, will we have one last bonding chapter, or will we jump right into that chapter I've been REALLY waiting to write? Probably the fun one, but who knows? Stick around and find out!


	17. Revel

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope y'all are ready for one of the big milestone chapters I've been waiting to write for over three months. This was a fun one!

The remainder of the school week came and went in the blink of an eye. Wes stared at his reflection in the locker room Friday afternoon, half an hour before the game was scheduled to start.

He couldn't lie, he was nervous. He'd practically thrown the last game, and he'd done it with Danny watching, after bragging about how good he was. And Danny would probably be there for this game, too. What if he made a complete fool of himself again? What would Danny think then?

...No. He couldn't think like that. He balled his hands into fists, very real fingers curling against his solid palms. He had a better grasp on his intangibility now than he did when facing against Lucy-Muir. A slip-up like that wouldn't happen again.

The Ravens entered the gym ten minutes before the game, the Gozer Dusters following not long after. The two teams did their pre-game exercises, Wes keeping his eyes glued to the door. To his surprise, Danny came in with three minutes to spare, finding a seat at the bottom of the bleachers. His eyes found Wes's, and he held up two thumbs, as if to celebrate his punctuality. Wes's face broke out in a grin.

The game started much like the last. Casper took possession of the ball and tipped it to Wes, who made his shot without moving from his position in the circle. The audience stood to cheer, and Wes didn't miss the way Danny smirked at the showy play. Definitely off to a good start, then.

Both teams racked up points throughout the quarter, with the Dusters finishing a measly three points ahead. But by the time halftime rolled around, it was the Ravens who were pulling ahead with a four point lead. Wes had yet to fumble a shot. If things kept up, he had no doubt in his mind that the Ravens would win.

But, of course, it wouldn't last.

His ghost sense went off barely a minute into the third quarter, followed by a deep rumbling. The players all stopped and looked around in confusion, the audience muttering amongst themselves. A boisterous cackle reverberated throughout the gymnasium, and the Casper students, familiar with the voice, quickly rose from their seats and began running for the exits. The Gozer students followed suit, screaming their heads off as they made their escape.

Wes ran for the exits, but skidded to a halt as a chunk of the ceiling landed in front of him. Debris continued to rain down in the center of the court, and if Wes had to make himself intangible to avoid getting crushed by a few errant chunks, well, nobody was paying him any mind anyway.

Soon enough, the culprit himself descended from the brand new hole he'd created. "Greetings, ghost child!" boomed Technus, no less than twenty lab computers hovering around him, cords and all. "It is I, Technus, master of technology, here to once again enact my plan to take over the world! And my first step? Your downfall!"

"Is it really too much to ask for one afternoon in peace?" asked an irritated Danny, hands clenching into fists as he prepared for battle.

Seeing that Technus was more focused on Danny, Wes made a break for it. But unfortunately, his quick movement caught the ghost's attention. He lifted a hand, and two of the computers extended their cords, ensnaring Wes and dragging him back towards the court. "Oh excellent, you're here too! How lucky for me!"

Wes squirmed in an attempt to get free, but the cords held fast. "Let me go! What is it with you ghosts tying me up lately, anyway!"

Danny jumped, transforming as he took to the air. "Let him go, Technus. Don't involve him in this."

"Oh, but he's already involved, isn't he!" guffawed Technus. "My dear friend Skulker told me that just the other day he caught a glimpse of another Halfa! Tall, red hair, red and white jersey. I would say that description fits you quite well!"

Danny's eyes went wide, and Wes grit his teeth. So Skulker had seen him change back after all, and was apparently telling other ghosts about it. That was just fantastic.

"Well. Secret's out I guess." Wes attempted a shrug, then flashed, taking on his ghost form.

Oddly enough, Technus grinned brighter at the sight. "Ah, so it really was you! I wasn't sure that I had grabbed the right student, but now I know you were the other ghost child after all!"

Wes cringed. He should have just played dumb.

While the pair was distracted, Danny charged, delivering a sharp kick to Technus's chin. The computers released Wes, who hovered in place indecisively. "Go!" Danny barked at him.

Wes nodded, summoning his tail and turning to take off. "Oh, no you don't!" Technus called, one computer detaching from the swarm to once again grab Wes by the torso, lifting him before slamming him against the ground.

Danny bared his teeth, using both hands to fire a plasma ray. Technus waved a hand, summoning a pixelated shield that blocked the beam. He laughed at the failed attack, dispersing the shield and striking Danny with the back of his hand, sending him careening into the bleachers.

Wes groaned, picking himself up off of the floor. He had barely gotten his tail under him when the computer barreled into the back of his head, painfully forcing him back down. He rolled onto his back, scowling as the monitor raised its cords threateningly, jacks pointed directly towards him.

Looked like he was going to be forced to fight this time around.

An audio jack jabbed forwards, and Wes darted back, getting himself upright as he did so. The computer's appendages writhed like tentacles as it advanced, the jack continuing to stab at him while others lashed out like whips. Wes ducked and weaved, moving backwards as he tried to avoid the cords. One snared his wrist, and in his moment of immobility, the jack skewered the point in his skull right between his eyes.

...But it didn't hit. Wes's head opened and warped around it, splitting his vision for one disorienting moment before the jack retracted, Wes's face snapping back to true solidity once it was no longer impeded. "... _Oh._ That was horrible."

The computer paused, as if confused by the action. Wes wrenched his hand free, then retrieved his legs so that he could kick out the monitor's screen. It recoiled, and Wes reached inside the opening to tug at the exposed parts inside. The machine whirred dangerously, and then exploded, forcing Wes to guard his face to avoid the flying shards of glass.

Great. One down, two dozen and an evil ghost to go.

Danny was still keeping Technus occupied. Both were already sporting bruises, and a few computers littered the ground in broken heaps. But it was clear that Technus had Danny on the ropes. He was surrounded on all sides, cords and wires lashing out at him as he tried to deflect both them and their master's blows. Had it been a one-on-one match, Wes had no doubt that Danny would have the upper hand. But cornered like he was, it was clear that he could be overwhelmed at any moment.

He needed a distraction.

"Hey Technus!" he called. "Say cheese!" Danny covered his eyes with one arm, and at the same time Technus turned with a perplexed look on his face. Wes let loose a bright flash of light, which died down a few seconds later.

However, Technus appeared completely unfazed, giving him a cocky grin. "Foolish other ghost child! Did you think you could hurt my eyes with a light show like that? Because it's you the joke is on, for my eyes are state-of-the-art displays, and can therefore not be bothered by your flashy brightness!"

Technus laughed haughtily, and in his moment of distraction, Wes charged, winding up a fist and striking him on the cheek. The ghost reeled back a couple steps, running his fingers along the bruising skin in astonishment. "Sweet, I can actually punch you!" Wes exclaimed, even as he shook out his aching hand. Danny could only pinch the bridge of his nose.

"...You're right," Technus hummed, the corners of his mouth quirking back up. "You may be a young and inexperienced ghost with the strength of an average twelve-year-old—" a very false statement "—but you can, indeed, punch me. But after I do _this,_ you will not be able to lay a finger on me at all!"

The fifteen remaining computers trembled where they hovered, then gravitated towards their master. The inactive but intact ones on the ground also picked themselves up, adding themselves to the growing mass. The equipment closet burst open, and out of it flew two tennis ball cannons. The scoreboard shorted out and pried itself off of the wall, floating over and settling down at the front of the scrap pile. The whole thing shuddered, then rose, raising itself until it took on a hulking, loosely humanoid form. Finally, the board flickered to life, the tiny yellow and red lights illuminating a broken up, pixelated version of Technus's likeness. "This technology may be sorely outdated, but behold, my new form!"

"Great, you just reminded him he can upgrade," Danny groaned.

"Well how was I supposed to know punching him would do that?!" Wes shot back.

"Try to punch _this!_ " Technus cried, throwing an armored fist. Wes was sent flying into the wall, where he then fell forwards, eyes wide as he attempted to draw in a winded breath.

Danny's eyes glowed brightly, and he threw a punch of his own, dislodging a keyboard. A series of wires extended and attached to it before it could fly too far, coming back around and giving him a surprise uppercut. He staggered back, and Technus leaned forwards, the cannons swinging down from where his shoulders should be and firing a stream of tennis balls. Danny was forced back further, then fell backwards as Technus continued to bombard him.

Wes staggered to his feet, wheezing. He looked between Danny and the imposing mech, uncertain. Should he take his chance and run? Should he stay? He wouldn't be any use against an armored suit like that, but the thought of leaving Danny to fight alone made his stomach churn.

Despite the onslaught, Danny managed to raise one brightly lit hand, then he swung it, sending a wave of ectoplasm that decimated the rest of the oncoming fire. "Your efforts are meaningless!" Technus bragged. "You cannot defeat a perfect being such as myself!"

"Funny, you say that every time," Danny countered, preparing a powerful laser in both hands. But before he could fire it, several wires snapped out, latching onto him before unloading a mass of crackling green electricity. The Halfa screamed and collapsed, Technus letting him fall the short distance to the polished wood floor.

A basketball smashed into the scoreboard out of nowhere, crushing several of the lights on the timer and further distorting Technus's face. He swiveled around, spotting Wes, who was an agitated shade of red. "You forgot about me."

"Oh, I didn't forget," Technus told him, reaching over and simply flicking him to the side. "You just aren't a threat to me."

Danny hoisted himself back up, his hair singed and smoking, but Technus was quick to bat him back down with a hefty arm, denting the floor under him. Thick cables snaked around the Halfa, lifting him so that he was hovering inches above the ground. "Aha!" Technus cheered. "I have you now, ghost child! You may have been able to shrug off my earlier electric attack, but this time I'll be sure to deliver one you won't ever wake up from!"

"No..." Wes whispered, getting to his feet and rushing to Danny. He grabbed one of the cables and pulled, but it held fast.

"Oh, perhaps I get to take you both down in one fell swoop!" brayed Technus, laughing heartily.

"Wes, get out of here," Danny grunted, voice tight.

"I'm not gonna leave you to get fried!" Wes exclaimed, redoubling his efforts. But no matter how hard he tugged, the cables refused to come loose.

Technus finally finished laughing. "Say goodbye, ghost child and other ghost child!" Danny and Wes could only stare helplessly as electricity arced and snapped, rapidly traveling down the rope of cords.

Wes realized many things very quickly.

The first was that getting electrocuted was surprisingly painless. He opened his mouth to scream, only to close it when no sound was forced out of him.

The second was that Danny hadn't screamed, either. He was looking at Wes in awe, completely unbothered by the rushing current. When Wes looked down, he discovered that it was because it hadn't even reached him. Instead, it had stopped where his hands were clinging to the cable, flickering energetically but remaining immobile.

The third was that, whatever had happened to Wes the week before, it had not been a core overload. Not even close. That feeling simply couldn't compare to what he felt now. He inhaled in a sharp gasp at the sensation of the electricity that pumped into him almost rhythmically, chasing away his fear and the ache in his bones. It was like a dam inside of him had burst, and his core pulsed and throbbed as it struggled to contain the sudden influx of power.

It was the most exhilarating thing he had felt in his life.

Technus cut back on his energy, hesitating. "What is this?! Why does this not hurt you?!"

"I dunno," Wes shrugged, baring his teeth in a toothy smile. "Maybe something different will happen if you do it again."

Frustrated, Technus drew back his cables, crying out angrily. While he went on a tirade to regain some sense of dignity, Wes marveled at the remaining sparks that danced across his fingertips, lightening from a vibrant green to a startlingly light blue as he watched before disappearing under his skin. Without Technus to continuously feed him energy, his core began to settle, transitioning from a heavy thudding to a low, powerful hum. Fingers repeatedly flexed and curled, and he shifted foot to foot, giggling eagerly to himself even as he suppressed the overwhelming urge to run laps around the court and never stop.

"You... You can absorb electricity?" Danny breathed, excited for his friend despite the still very much present danger not thirty feet from them.

"It hardly matters!" Technus shouted, having regained his composure. "Even if you know how to release it, you can't hurt me with something as integral to me as an electrical current!"

That was fine. Wes had a better idea. "Hey Danny, get that thermos of yours ready. I think I know how to beat him."

Danny shook his head, brows furrowed. "Wes, I don't think this is a good idea-"

"Just trust me, alright? I've got this. I just have to get close, and I need you to be ready when I do." Danny frowned, but after watching Wes soak up several seconds of raw electricity with apparently no ill effects, and with him practically radiating confidence like he was now... He found that he really couldn't say no.

"...Okay. Just be careful."

"I hope you're done planning over there, because I think it's about time we finish this!" Technus called out, balling his enormous metallic fists as tendrils writhed threateningly around him. But Wes couldn't find it in himself to be intimidated. Instead, his grin spread into something determined, almost manic, his tail manifesting and slapping the ground beside him. It coiled in preparation to sprint, buzzing and crackling like a live wire.

He felt dangerous. And he reveled in it.

Wes was moving almost before Technus attacked, launching a stream of jacks in an attempt to impale him. Wes swerved around them, then darted to the side as a heavy cord came down where he was hovering. A fist was swung, but Wes stayed just out of range, the gust ruffling his hair when it passed. Several wires flew towards him, circling in preparation to ensnare him. But he jerked backwards so quickly it was like he had been yanked from behind, the wires closing over the spot where he had been a split second before.

Even in the face of such a dangerous ghost, Wes found himself laughing. He had always been a fast individual, and his ability to fly only aided in his mobility. But this... He never knew this sort of agility was possible, this ability to react with such speed that he was avoiding attacks well before they could be executed. Moving around before was like wading through honey, compared to what he was capable of now. He felt untouchable, unstoppable.

Technus raised one heavy foot, bringing it down to crush his opponent. Wes easily slithered out of the way, then around and upwards, working his way up Technus's leg until he had reached the torso. He buried his hands in the mass of wires that composed the abdomen, his tail curling as far around the mech's midsection as it could reach like an anchor. "What are you doing, other ghost child?" Technus asked, the barest hint of uncertainty in his voice.

"Maybe you can't be electrocuted," Wes told him, gripping the cables harder, "but your tech still can be, right?" Technus squawked furiously, but with Wes clinging as tightly as he was, there was little hope of prying him off. The Halfa opened up his core, and tiny sparks began to zigzag up and down his arms. Individual strands of hair lifted from the mass of their careful sweep, and shadows danced across his features as his own energy began to backlight his flesh. "Now who isn't a threat?"

Wes didn't let everything escape him. Instead, he _pushed._

His aura condensed, and then with a resounding _crack,_ it flared violently around him, arcs of cyan electricity forcing themselves into Technus's torso before spreading throughout his body. The mech froze and shuddered, animated by the power being pushed through it. Individual parts flickered and died, falling off of the main body. Others shorted out and burst into flames as they were overloaded before doing the same. "No... No...!"

It wasn't long before the entire suit was fried, leaving Technus completely exposed. Wes dropped to the ground, out of his immediate reach. "Now!"

Danny didn't need to be told twice. He aimed the thermos and fired, Technus being immediately engulfed by the beam. His furious scream died down to nothing as he was swallowed up, the thermos being capped shut over him.

With the battle finally over, Wes let the rigid tension melt from his shoulders. He swayed on his feet, completely spent, and Danny ran up just in time to give him a shoulder to lean on before he changed back. "...Wow," Danny murmured, a disbelieving chuckle escaping his lips. "I can't believe you actually beat him."

"Nah, I just disarmed him," Wes huffed tiredly, a small smirk still plastered on his face. "You're the one who's good at doing the beating part."

Danny snorted, allowing his human form to wash over him. "Yeah, well, I've been doing this a lot longer than you."

There was no point in sticking around the gym any longer. Destroyed as it was and littered with scrap metal, it was doubtful that the basketball game would continue, even if students were brave enough to return. The two shuffled their way out the door, heading towards their lockers.

"...So am I allowed to fight ghosts now?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And there you have it. Flashy boi is actually shocky boi!
> 
> I already have an idea for what the next chapter is going to be like, though there are a few things I need to work out before I actually start writing it, haha. Still, I may end up doing some artwork for this chapter. If I do, I'll let y'all know!


	18. Conductive

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait with this one. I had the chapter about halfway written, but Jazz was completely wrecking the pacing, so I had to write her out to finish the chapter lmao. Hopefully this was worth the wait!

It was barely nine in the morning when Wes called.

Danny groaned, his hand fumbling across the top of his nightstand for his phone. After several seconds of searching, he found it, hitting the green button to silence its incessant jingle before holding it to his ear, his head never leaving the cover of his blanket. "What."

"Will you help me out with my new power today?"

Danny squinted at the phone. Wes sounded way too chipper for a Saturday morning. "...Can't you practice by yourself for a couple hours or something? It's not even noon yet."

"I can't practice by myself!" Wes shouted, forcing Danny to briefly retract the phone. "What if I accidentally cause a blackout or something? I don't have anything I can practice on over here anyway, and you've gotta have _something_ that could help at your place. I bet you have all sorts of cool tech and failsafes there."

Danny sighed to himself. Wes wasn't wrong, exactly. While most of the equipment in the lab was intended to destroy ghosts, much of it was also designed to make studying them easier. Heck, he was known to use some of it to brush up on his skills here and there himself. Realistically, the lab was probably the best place for Wes to get the hang of his new power. "...Okay, um. Give me an hour or so to get things ready. I'll see what we've got."

"Alright, I'll be there. Thanks, Danny."

"Yeah, sure. Bring some cola, too. If you're gonna wake me up at nine on a Saturday, make it worth my time."

Wes showed up almost exactly an hour later, 2-liter bottle in hand. He was bouncing happily on his toes, cola sloshing and foaming. Danny exhaled through his nose at the sight. He was going to have to wait to open the soda, it looked like.

Still, he stepped aside, and Wes didn't hesitate to waltz right in. He went to the kitchen to put the drink away, and found Jazz packing snacks into her schoolbag. "Oh, Wesley, you're here! You came to do some training, right?"

Wes nodded, and then paused, glancing around warily and keeping his voice low. "...Uh, are your parents home?"

"Oh, you don't have to worry about that," Danny said, waving dismissively. "I told them there was a ghost downtown, they'll be searching for hours." Wes relaxed a little at that.

"Danny already had some things set up for you down in the lab," Jazz told him, "but I took the liberty of making some of my own adjustments in order to ensure a safe learning environment."

"You what?!" Danny exclaimed. "Jazz, it was already safe. I had a method and everything!"

"As your older sister, who you _asked_ to help with lesson planning, mind you," Jazz said in her haughty eldest sibling voice, "it's my job to make sure those lessons are suitable for teaching. And I don't feel that using the Fenton Stinger would be particularly enriching."

"Fenton Stinger?" Wes asked.

"Basically a ray gun that shocks you," Danny informed him, rolling his entire head at Jazz. "Which would have been _fine_ because he can just soak it up."

"Danny!" shouted Wes.

"What? I even tested it on myself at the lowest setting, and it barely hurt anyway."

" _Danny!_ " Jazz screeched. She massaged her temples with her fingertips, visibly fighting off an upcoming migraine. "See, this is why I need to be here to supervise you. But unfortunately, I can't, because I have three students I have to tutor today instead, so I need to trust you not to do anything stupid while I'm gone, alright?"

"You have my word," Danny said smugly, one hand on his chest with the other in the air.

"Good, because I'm not letting you shoot me with a freaking laser gun," Wes scowled.

Jazz nodded, more to herself than to Danny's oath. "...Okay. You two better both be in one piece when I come back." She left the kitchen, her head lingering to watch them for as long as possible, before the front door could finally be heard opening and closing, followed by her car pulling out of the driveway before fading away entirely.

Once he was certain she was gone, Danny put his hands together with a clap. "So. You ready to get started?"

Wes nodded, but he could only hope Jazz had actually managed to Danny-proof the lab.

When the pair of them went downstairs, the lab was almost completely cleared out, anything not bolted down having been shoved towards the walls. Near the portal— still under repair, it seemed— was a single foldable table, on top of which rested various equipment; some looked like guns, others had no discernible purpose. Next to the table was a rod that was taller than Wes was, attached to a large metal box via a series of wires and cables.

Danny approached the table, picking up a small firearm, though luckily it looked more like a speedometer than an actual weapon. Wes pointed at it, both curious and cautious. "...That isn't the Stinger, is it?"

Danny snorted derisively. "No, I'm pretty sure Jazz hid that. This is the Ghostly Emission Modulator, G.E.M. for short. I think it's kind of like a stethoscope for ghosts? You point it at one, and it picks up on their core energy and translates it into sound."

Wes hummed inquisitively, lips quirking up. "Neat. But how is it gonna help?"

"It kinda won't," Danny shrugged. "But it's pretty cool, and I thought you might get a kick out of it. Wanna try it?" Wes pursed his lips, but he couldn't deny that he was curious. Sensing his hesitation, Danny put the G.E.M. in his hands. "It's totally harmless, I promise. Here, use it on me."

"...This isn't gonna shoot anything at you, is it?" Danny's amused huff told him that no, it wouldn't. Probably. He hoped.

Wes gulped and aimed the G.E.M., holding down the trigger. Danny didn't move from his spot, and the only thing the G.E.M. emitted was a constant but nearly imperceptible bout of white noise. After a few seconds of nothing changing, Wes was going to ask if the machine was broken. But then Danny changed, and the sound spiked to an irritating grating sound, like several forks scraping against a plate. Though once the transformation was complete, the noise faded until it more resembled the crackle of an old speaker, or maybe the tinkling of a small bell. Something shattering? It was surprisingly difficult to pin down any one sound, and Wes found himself mesmerized.

"...Are you ready to give it a shot?" Danny asked, breaking Wes out of his musings. He released the trigger, and the noise cut off abruptly.

"Oh! Um... Yeah, okay." He handed Danny the G.E.M., who pointed it at him in turn. At first, the machine only released a quiet hum, just as near-silent as Danny's static. But once Wes transformed, it increased until it was a persistent buzz, the volume and pitch gradually increasing and decreasing at regular intervals. It reminded Danny of a beehive, a heartbeat, and a vibrating phone, all at once.

"How much charge do you have right now?" he asked.

"Not a lot," Wes replied, his gaze transfixed on the machine. "I ran the whole way here, but I didn't build up much... But it's enough to do this!" He held his index fingers across from each other, a few scant inches from his face. He crossed his eyes as he concentrated, until between his fingertips a small blue spark ignited, arcing between them and buzzing like a small Tesla coil. Wes looked between the spark and Danny, mouth hanging open in an elated smile.

Danny smirked and chuckled at the display, setting the G.E.M. back on the table. "Now, how about we see how much energy you can hold? We gotta know where your limits are."

Wes tilted his head as he dropped the spark, the grin still plastered on his face. "Okay. How are we gonna do that?"

"We use the Stinger," Danny replied, heading to the edge of the lab and rooting around in the various junk there. "Come on, if I was an annoyingly nosy older sister, where would I hide you...?"

Wes frowned, rocking from foot to foot. "Uhh, I don't know how I feel about getting shot at..."

"Don't worry, I'll start at the lowest setting," Danny consoled him, cheering quietly when he found what he was looking for; he had to use both hands to hold onto it. "It'll only feel like you shocked yourself on a doorknob, it really isn't too bad."

"I dunno..."

"Hey, you survived Technus trying to electrocute you. If you can absorb that and be totally fine afterwards, then you should be able to handle this, no problem."

Wes chewed on his lip, but he figured, maybe Danny was right. If he was able to handle a nasty shock from someone as strong as Technus, then why should he be scared of something that would be practically painless? Besides, Danny wouldn't encourage it if there was any real risk involved. "...Okay. But give me a warning before you shoot, alright?"

Danny nodded, lifting the hefty gun and aiming it. He flicked a switch on the side with his thumb, and the machine whirred to life, the see-through midsection lighting up and rotating at an accelerating pace. Danny turned a small dial near the power switch, and the Stinger settled down to a quiet, high-pitched hum. "You ready?"

"Ready as I'll ever be."

Danny fired, pressing the trigger and quickly releasing it. Out of the Stinger flew a small green bolt, striking Wes in the chest with a _snap._ He recoiled, but was unharmed, patting at the point of contact.

"...Well? How did that feel?"

"...It didn't hurt," Wes replied, confirming what Danny had already suspected. "I felt it, but it wasn't painful or anything."

"Wanna try a stronger blast, and then see what happens from there?" Danny asked him.

Wes nodded, far less anxious now that he knew the weapon wasn't going to hurt him. "Yeah. I'm ready."

Danny twisted the knob just a hair, and the Stinger whined louder in response. He fired another quick release, a larger bolt escaping the barrel. This time when it hit, Wes's face broke out in a confident grin. "Come on, keep it coming. I feel like I could do this all day."

Danny smirked at his friend's enthusiasm. "Alright. But tell me if it starts to hurt or feel weird. We're trying to figure out your max here, not burn you out." Wes nodded excitedly, and Danny turned the Stinger up higher, bracing himself before holding down the trigger.

Wes fought to keep still as the stream of electricity bore into him, errant sparks scattering before they, too, were absorbed. His core throbbed in time with his increasing pulse, forcing a bubbling laugh out of him as it surged and swelled. And still he took in more, _more,_ fingers flexing and shaking as the current further permeated every cell, every fiber, every aspect of his being. He had never felt a rush quite like this. He felt incredible. Indestructible!

...And then he didn't. His core groaned and tightened, discomfort briefly stabbing in his chest. He clenched his fists, his limbs quivering beyond his control. His aura brightened and flickered, prickling at the edges. Everything was growing warm, and his insides began to light up, throwing uncanny shadows across his face. He felt like he was spilling over, but not a spark escaped him, and he only continued to suck up more and more. "...Stop!"

Danny did so without question, the Stinger mercifully ceasing its assault. "Grab the rod and let it out," he instructed. Wes wasted no time, running to and grabbing the rod with both hands before pushing everything out. The relief was almost instantaneous, and he slumped against the device, releasing a breath he didn't recall holding. Danny was at his side in an instant, resting a hand on his shoulder. "Are you okay? You aren't hurt, are you?"

"...I'm fine," Wes breathed. "Not hurt. It just... kinda started to feel funny."

Danny nodded in understanding, removing his hand so that he could examine a display on the machine attached to the rod. He hummed when he took note of the number on the small screen. "...Looks like you pumped five megawatts into this thing."

Wes bolted upright. "Five megawatts?!"

"...Is that a lot?"

"Is that a lot," Wes parroted incredulously. "That's gotta be enough to like... god, power a city block for at least a day, right?! And that thing can actually generate that much?!"

Danny shrugged. "Hey, I have no idea how any of this stuff works. I'm just shooting you with it."

Wes shook his head in amazement, and though the thought crossed his mind to try to figure out how the Stinger worked, that was a question for another day. "Anyway. What did you want to try next?"

"I was thinking we should figure out your range," Danny replied. "Even with a power like yours, getting close to a ghost isn't always a good idea. If you can zap them from a distance, you'll be a lot better off."

"Target practice, huh?" Wes rubbed his hands together, enthusiastically baring his teeth. "Alright, what am I aiming for?"

Danny crossed his arms. "You're gonna be aiming for me."

Wes stared. Closed his mouth. Stared a little longer. "...What?! No, I'm not zapping you!"

"Look, I'll be fine," Danny assured him, grabbing onto the rod with one hand. "I can redirect the current, so it won't hurt me, okay?"

"...Where was that ability when we were fighting Technus, huh?!"

"I barely use it, so I don't always remember I can do it," Danny huffed defensively. "My point is, I'll be fine, so don't worry about me, okay?"

"Don't worry, he says," Wes grumbled, getting into position anyway. "He wants me to shock him and he tells me not to worry."

Danny lifted the Stinger, making sure Wes was ready before firing, only holding the trigger down for a few seconds. "There, that should be plenty. Try to zap me from right there. If it works, get further away until it stops. If it doesn't, get closer until it does. Got it?"

Wes nodded, frowning. "...Got it." He shook out his hands, taking a deep breath before hesitantly bringing his energy to the surface. He extended both hands towards Danny, pursing his lips as he willed himself to strike his friend down. Sparks arced along his wrists and fingertips, but they only curved back onto themselves, retreating and reappearing without bridging that distance between Wes and Danny.

Doing as he had been instructed, Wes inched closer, watching the sparks swarming his hands with growing apprehension. Soon they were only ten feet away from each other, then five, four, three. It wasn't until the pair were barely a foot apart that the current finally jumped, striking Danny and turning an ectoplasmic green before funneling into the lightning rod. True to his word, he was unharmed.

Danny tsked, thoughtfully pursing his lips. "Seems like you have to stick pretty close after all. But at least it looks like you don't have to be touching me directly."

Wes hummed, mildly displeased by that fact. It looked like he wouldn't be throwing any lightning bolts around.

"Alright, next," said Danny. "I noticed that you were moving around different than usual yesterday, so I wanna see if holding a charge amplifies any of your other abilities. Strength, speed, that kind of thing. If it does, then you'll definitely stand a better chance even without shocking anyone."

It was something Wes had been wondering, too. Though he hadn't thought much of it at the time, he was sure his reflexes had improved after Technus's shock. Though his agility was already nothing to scoff at, he had never had such an easy time weaving around so many obstacles. He couldn't be certain if it was adrenaline, or if it actually had to do with his core, but he was about to find out.

"First, let's see where you're at when you're running on empty," said Danny. Wes gripped the rod and unloaded until even his glow had disappeared. Danny returned to the table and grabbed two items: one was a speedometer, and the other appeared to be some sort of overly complex clamp. Danny held out the latter item for Wes to take. "Squeeze this with everything you've got, then tell me what the screen says."

Wes nodded in understanding, accepting the small device. "Oh, so this is like a dynamometer."

"Yeah, sure, whatever that word was. Just squeeze it."

Wes smirked to himself. Maybe he wasn't good at lifting, but he knew he had an impressive grip. You couldn't get far in basketball without one. Which is why, when he squeezed the handheld device, he wasn't surprised to see a solid 126 pounds displaying proudly on the screen.

Danny, however, was. His eyebrows went up, and he pursed his lips. "126, huh? Would have thought it would be higher."

Wes scowled. "Come on, that's like, a whole two pounds better than my old average. You think you could do better, huh?"

"...I would crush that thing if I tried to measure myself," Danny deadpanned. Wes opened his mouth to retort, but Danny held up a hand. "Come on, we're gonna see how fast you can fly."

Clamping his mouth shut, Wes cocked his head to the side. "Wait, we aren't gonna check my grip with a charge first?"

"We're gonna do that after you fly. Filling and emptying your core too much can still strain it," Danny told him. "So phase through the wall, get some distance, and fly straight through." He grinned cheekily. "Unless you're afraid of hitting a brick wall face first?"

"I'm not afraid! I've been getting better at controlling my intangibility!" Wes cried.

"Then come on, we don't have all day."

Wes scoffed, manifesting his tail before making his way to the edge of the lab. After a pause to make sure he was no longer solid, he passed through, and Danny raised the speedometer in preparation for him to return. It was a good ten or twenty seconds before Wes flew through, Danny tracking the vague orange blur before he disappeared entirely. A few seconds after that, Wes returned, hovering over Danny's shoulder to glance at his reading.

Danny turned the speedometer so that Wes could get a better look. "It says you were going 63."

Wes pouted at that. "I thought you said I could go 70."

"Well I didn't have a speedometer on me, did I," Danny pointed out. "Let's get you charged up and we'll see how fast you can really go."

Wes didn't have to be told twice. He flew to his prior spot in the lab, tail leaving tiny figure eights on the tile floor. Danny powered up the Stinger and fired, making sure to release the trigger the moment he noticed Wes's aura behaving erratically. "Does that feel alright?"

The Halfa flexed his hands, his toothy grin telling Danny everything he needed to know. He tipped his head towards the wall, and then Wes was gone, disappearing before Danny could get a verbal command out. He was barely able to get the speedometer up in time to track Wes as he sped through, skidding to a halt at the far end of the lab before coming over to inspect his speed. "...109? That's still slower than you..."

"You only changed a few weeks ago," Danny pointed out with a shrug. "I've been a Halfa for almost two years. You aren't gonna be at my level any time soon."

"Still, woulda thought I'd get more mileage out of five megawatts," Wes muttered. He drifted towards the table, where the dynamometer waited to be picked up. "You wanted to see if my grip was stronger too, right?"

Danny nodded. "Yep. And it looks like you already know how to use that thing, so have at it."

And Wes did so, squeezing the clamp with everything he had. He peered at the little screen, his determined scowl growing irritated. "Oh, come on! 132 pounds? That's almost nothing!"

"But it's still something," said Danny. "Now we know you can probably punch something less like an average twelve-year-old, and more like an emerging thirteen-year-old." Wes shoved his shoulder, and Danny flinched and glared, rubbing at the point of contact. "Hey, that stings, you know."

Wes crossed his arms, tucking his hands into his armpits. "Sorry. But that's what you get for making fun of me."

"Well. Now I know the next thing we need to work on is your control," Danny groused. "...But maybe we should save that for another day. I can tell you need a break."

"What?!" Wes shouted. "But I feel fine! I could totally keep going!"

"It might feel that way, but that's only because your core is full. I bet if it was empty you'd realize how tired you are."

"Tired? I'm not tired at all," Wes chuffed. "I could be running laps in here if I really wanted to."

Danny rolled his eyes. "Alright, hotshot. If you're so sure, then dump everything into the lightning rod. If you don't collapse afterwards, then we'll load you back up and keep going. Otherwise, we're calling it quits for the day."

"Pfft, fine, I'll show you," Wes agreed, strutting back to the rod. He grabbed it, and with a muted _phfoomph,_ discharged everything he had built up. The moment it was all gone, he swayed on his feet, and had to prop himself up on the device to remain standing. "...I hate you."

"What's that? Don't tell me you're actually worn out," Danny singsonged.

"Shut it," Wes hissed. "I'll just come back tomorrow, then."

"Uh, no you won't," said Danny. "I've already got plans to play Doomed with Sam and Tucker tomorrow. We can get your power figured out some time during the break."

Wes huffed, but didn't argue, instead straightening himself out. "Fine, fine. But I'm gonna hold you to it."

"Yeah, yeah. And no ghost fighting until then, got it?"

"What?!" Wes shrieked. "But I kicked Technus's butt! I can handle myself!"

"You got lucky," Danny pointed out. "But you can't count on luck with these guys. I'm not gonna let you keep putting yourself in danger until I know you can handle it." Wes groaned. "Now come on, we might as well break into that soda before you go." The two headed back upstairs, where the cola that had finally settled down was still waiting for them.

Too bad it was too warm to enjoy from sitting on the counter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Glad to finally have this one out of the way. These next two chapters should be a lot more fun, both to write and to read. And since I already know what they're going to be about, hopefully I'll have them along a lot quicker!


	19. Excuse

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> BUCKLE UP KIDDOS CUZ THIS IS KINDA GAY

Throughout Thanksgiving break, Wes continued to visit FentonWorks to improve upon his new power. Some days Jazz watched over him and Danny, and on others Sam and Tucker supervised them. Through trial and error, they began to work out the intricacies of what Wes had taken to calling the Sap N' Zap. Namely, the fact that he could only absorb electricity through direct contact with the current or a power source, and that his tail was particularly conductive to static. He continued to practice throughout the week, and by the time Saturday came and went, he had enough control that he wouldn't accidentally send off a painful shock whenever he made physical contact... most of the time.

"Alright, I think we're done for the day," Danny grumped, smoothing out his hair that smelled suspiciously burnt. "We'll pick this back up again tomorrow, and hopefully by then you'll have figured out how not to keep doing... this."

"At least it wasn't as bad this time," Wes sniffed, discharging into the rod. To his credit, he remained on his feet, having gotten well used to the routine after a week of on-and-off practice. "But... I actually want to ask you something. About tomorrow."

"Is this gonna be another one of your power theories?" Danny asked. "Because we're lucky we aren't picking lightbulb shards out of our faces from your last bright idea."

"It was a sound theory with poor execution," Wes defended. "But, uh, no. This doesn't have to do with ghost stuff." Danny blinked, but didn't speak, allowing his friend to continue. "Actually, I was wondering if... Well, there's this horror movie that came out in theaters the other day. Sylvival? The one with the bloodsucking, shapeshifting fairies that aren't anything like actual fairies? Uh, I was thinking. Maybe you would wanna go watch that instead of training tomorrow?"

Danny stared at him. "...You mean, just the two of us?"

"Sam and Tucker can come too if they want," Wes quickly stammered out, hands fidgeting. "I just thought, you know. Scary movie. Overpriced soda. Popcorn that's a little stale. But if you want to do something else that's cool too. Or if you just want me to keep training instead."

"Keep training when there's a perfectly terrible scary movie to watch? As if. Which theater is it at?"

Wes kept his face straight, but only barely. "The old-fashioned one downtown. Be there at two?"

Danny nodded. "I'll be there."

This time, Wes didn't hide the smile that stretched across his face.

({O})

Danny arrived at the theater ten minutes early, having just wrapped up his patrol. He landed in the alley next to the building, reverting to human form before walking out in the open, hands in his pockets. He rounded the corner to the theater entrance, where Wes was anxiously shifting foot to foot. He had forgone his usual jersey for a turtleneck and jeans, since the weather was getting increasingly chilly as the year neared its end. Danny honestly hadn't thought he owned any other clothes.

Wes shivered, and then he looked up, his eyes immediately drawn to the teen that was somehow perfectly content to wear short sleeves in fifty degree weather. He craned his neck, as if trying to see past Danny. "Sam and Tucker didn't make it?"

"Turns out they already had plans today," Danny replied with a noncommittal shrug. Wes wasn't sure if he bought the barely-excuse, but he found that he wasn't complaining.

The corners of his lips quirked up. "Sounds like they're gonna miss out. Ready to go in?"

Danny smiled back. "Ready when you are. You get the tickets, and I'll grab the snacks. How buttery do you like your popcorn?"

"Pfft, is that a real question?"

"Completely drenched it is, then."

The two made their way into the theater, taking their seats in the back just as the ads and teasers had finished playing. Once they were seated, Wes pulled several boxes of Skittles and Milk Duds out of his sweater. Danny snorted.

As it turned out, Wes was a very obnoxious movie companion. Sure, Danny and his gang enjoyed pointing out plot holes and making the occasional comment, but Wes felt the need to ask questions about almost every little thing that went on on-screen. Though he ate his candy in moderation, and shared if asked, the popcorn bucket was nearly halfway empty just twenty minutes into the movie. That wasn't even mentioning the way that, without fail, he mimicked every hiss and shriek the fairies made under his breath.

Still, rather than being unbearably annoying, Danny found it oddly, inexplicably endearing.

Almost two hours after going in, the pair came out, blinking in the comparatively harsh sunlight. Wes had not stopped talking since the credits rolled. "See, I knew there was a way to stop the fairies! You trick them the same way they try to trick you! If you're careful with your words, they can't suck out your soul!"

"Kind of a weird approach to a monster movie, but they actually handled it pretty well," Danny said, taking the opportunity to speak while Wes paused to breathe for the first time in at least four minutes.

"It could have been done better," Wes commented. "There were a few times where a fairy should have caught someone but didn't just because of the plot armor. But other than that, yeah, it was pretty good."

"Hey, thanks for taking me to go see it," said Danny. "I had a good time. Now I should probably head home and-"

"Wait, hold on," Wes quickly cut him off. "There's a nickel arcade down the street from here, and I haven't been in forever. We should go check it out."

Danny frowned at the interruption, but he couldn't deny that he was interested. He hadn't been to an arcade in quite a while. And it wasn't like he had any other plans. "...Alright. Let's go, then."

Wes pumped his fist. "Yes! Bet I can get more tickets than you!" He ran off down the street, and Danny shook his head, grinning before running after him.

"Oh, you are _so_ on!"

Wes made it to the arcade first, holding the door open for Danny. The place smelled of cheap plastic and pizza grease, the beeping of consoles and rattling of coins only lending to the nostalgic air of the place. Wes drifted towards the prize counter, scanning the toys and candies for something to strive towards. He ceased his skimming when his eyes landed on something perfect. "...Oh my god."

Danny saw what he was looking at and scowled, groaning. "...No. Absolutely not."

Wes grinned. "You know I have to."

"Not if you don't get enough tickets."

The small Phantom plush sat on a shelf behind the counter, out of reach. It was smiling, plastic green eyes almost taunting as it held a small sign proudly declaring that it was worth 1500 tickets.

"...I can do it. I think I have enough nickels for it."

"If you don't I'm not lending you any," Danny told him.

Wes sniffed, smirking. "Fine by me. I don't need your nickels to rack up enough jackpots."

"You sound pretty confident. Let's see if you can back it up."

And the game was on. Wes immediately booked it to the basketball games, milking each station for all they were worth. Emboldened by his head start, he went for skeeball next, though it was immediately apparent that his penchant for tossing and dribbling did not carry over to rolling. Danny, only entertained for so long by Wes's enthusiasm, waded through the games until he'd found an immersive shooting booth.

The two mostly kept to themselves, occasionally meeting for an air hockey or racing break. By the time they had run out of nickels, each of them had an arm full of tickets, Wes's heap notably larger. "I got every jackpot I could. Think this is enough?"

Danny shrugged. "Guess we'll find out."

The pair went to the ticket converting machine, meticulously feeding their tickets into it before printing out their slips. Danny had accumulated 743 tickets— he had focused more on the shooting and pinball games than the big ticket attractions— and Wes had an impressive 1512 tickets.

"YES!" he cheered. "I have just enough!"

"Wes, I'm begging," Danny moaned. "You can get anything else, but please, not that. Anything but that."

The jock only grinned. "What, embarrassed that there's merch of you and I'm gonna get some?" Danny only moaned louder, which was all the response Wes needed. His grin widened, and he practically swaggered over to the prize counter, leaning his elbow on the glass while the attendant stared tiredly. Wes flicked up the ticket slip, holding it between two fingers. "One small Phantom plush, please. And two Tootsie Rolls for the rest."

The attendant sluggishly made the trade, and Wes held the doll in front of himself, giving Danny the most smug look he could muster. The Halfa could only bury his face in his hands, trying and failing to look like he had no idea who this strange teenager with a children's toy was. "Just... the rocket assembly kit, please..."

The two exited the arcade with their winnings, and Danny was about to say his farewells when Wes spoke. "It's getting kind of late. Before you go, wanna stop by my place for dinner? I live pretty close by."

Danny freed one hand to rub the back of his head. "I don't know. Jazz will probably start to worry if I'm gone too long..."

"Come on, it's no trouble," Wes insisted. "You can always text her. Besides, I make a pretty mean tenderloin."

Danny gave him an inquisitive look. "You can cook?"

Wes shrugged. "Dad works long shifts. I usually make dinner since I'm home first most of the time. But, uh. If tenderloin sounds too fancy-schmancy I can always make you like, a grilled cheese or something."

Danny snorted. "Well. Whatever you make will probably taste better than anything my mom could make. I guess I can stay for dinner, but then I really should get going before my parents start parading the city again."

Wes smiled, and then the two began their trek. They reached the house in a matter of minutes, Wes unlocking the door and stepping aside so that Danny could enter.

The house was about as small on the inside as the outside made it appear. The living room was little in a way that looked more cozy than cramped, with an open doorway to the kitchen on one side, and a short hallway down the other. Down the hall was two bedrooms and a bathroom, as well as what may have been a closet for the washing machine. The kitchen was cluttered, but homely in a way that the dining area at FentonWorks wasn't. The whole place was rather minimal, but seemed just about perfect for two.

Wes migrated to the kitchen, taking a peek in the fridge to ensure that he did indeed have pork. Nodding to himself, he rummaged through the cupboards, thinking out loud as he debated on a side dish. "Hmm, not enough rice for three... Out of potatoes... Not sure if he likes salad... Would cheese crackers be dumb with tenderloin...?"

Danny chuckled, wandering around the living room and inspecting the framed photos and limited decor. "I don't care what you make, as long as it doesn't come to life."

"Don't tell me that's why you didn't want me eating your food," Wes called. When his friend didn't reply, he scoffed. "So your parents can't catch a ghost to save their lives, but they can somehow reanimate their food? I really shouldn't be surprised."

"Hey, that's my mom and dad you're talking about," Danny retorted, but there was no heat behind his words.

Wes was just debating actually pulling out the box of crackers when a car could be heard pulling into the driveway. Moments later, the door opened, and in walked Walter, arms weighed down with bags of groceries. "Wesley, you home?"

"Dad!" Wes cheered, crackers forgotten as he sprinted to the living room, relieving Walter of most of his haul. "Here, let me get that. You're home earlier than I expected!"

"They let me leave early, since it's your birthday today and all," Walter told him. "I also went and grabbed supplies for some chicken alfredo. I know that's your favorite."

"Birthday?" Danny asked.

It was only then that Walter noticed their guest, smiling with pleasant surprise. "Oh, Wesley! I didn't know you were bringing a boy over!"

Wes quickly flushed, mouth opening and closing repeatedly before he managed to stammer out a response. "...No, i-it's... We were just hanging out, and we were already in the area, so I thought I could make dinner before he went home. That's all!"

If Danny noticed Wes's sudden discomfort, he didn't mention it, instead asking a more pressing question. "Why didn't you tell me it was your birthday?"

Wes's frown became more shy, and his hands wrung and fidgeted in front of him. "...I didn't want you to feel like you had to get me anything."

Danny shook his head, smirking. "You realize I'm still gonna get you something, right? Because I want to, not because I have to."

"But getting to hang out was the present," Wes squeaked in protest.

"We can hang out pretty much whenever we want," Danny pointed out. "I'm still getting you a gift."

Wes would have argued further, but Walter cut them both off. "Well, you're still welcome to stay until dinner if you like. Donnie, right?"

"Danny, actually," Danny corrected him. "And... sure. If you don't mind."

"Danny, that's right. Not at all. I think there's enough here for three. Wesley, would you like to help me in the kitchen?" Wes nodded, and Walter turned to Danny again. "Feel free to make yourself at home. The bathroom is down the hall, and if you need anything, all you have to do is ask."

"Okay. Thanks, Mr. Weston."

Wes and Walter slaved away in the kitchen, their efforts somehow both frenzied and relaxed. They murmured easily to each other as they worked, elbows almost constantly bumping, though Danny didn't see fit to listen in. He didn't get the impression that they got to spend much time together; the least he could do was give them some semblance of privacy.

Sooner than he would have expected, Walter was giving his son his final instructions. "Wesley, would you mind getting out the plates and silverware?"

"Sure thing, dad," Wes chirped, abandoning his station to rummage through the drawers and cupboards for plates and forks. Once he had procured them, Walter placed heaping helpings on all three plates. Danny couldn't deny that it looked and smelled delicious. He hadn't realized how hungry he was until he saw the chicken, noodles, and broccoli that were practically swimming in sauce.

"We don't have a third chair," said Walter, "so I hope you don't mind if we all sit on the couch."

Danny shook his head. "Nope, I don't mind a bit."

The three of them took their seats, with Wes in the middle, and Danny and Walter on either side. Danny took his first bite, and was shocked by the way it practically melted in his mouth. "Woah... You guys seriously made this?"

"Wesley did, mostly," Walter replied, smiling proudly. "I just did the prep work. He's the food connoisseur." Wes blushed, but he was smiling into his food.

"Heh, you guys could probably teach my mom a thing or two," Danny joked, happily taking another bite.

The meal continued for several minutes, the trio sitting in easy silence. It was Walter who broke it, setting down his fork and clearing his throat. "Danny, right? Yes, Danny... I don't think I've ever had the chance to thank you-"

"Daaad," Wes whined.

"Please don't interrupt, Wesley," Walter scolded before focusing once again on their guest. "I never did thank you for saving my son's life."

Danny's current bite sprayed out of his mouth, coating half of the coffee table. He hastily used his paper towel napkin to dab at the mess, eyes darting about as he fumbled for words. "I-I, er, I don't know what you mean."

"...He knows, Danny," Wes admitted, bashfully keeping his eyes glued to his food. He ran an anxious hand through his hair. "I told him a few weeks ago."

"...You told him? I thought you promised to keep it a secret."

"He's my dad," Wes retorted. "You told your friends _and_ your sister about me." Danny frowned, but didn't argue. "...I kind of had to tell him, anyway. He caught me practicing telekinesis in my room."

Danny blinked, the increasingly tense atmosphere breaking. "...Why were you practicing telekinesis?"

Wes shrugged. "Poltergeists are supposed to be able to do it, right? I figured it didn't hurt to try."

Danny stared. "...Wes. Poltergeists aren't real." Wes spluttered, wildly gesturing at Danny. "...It's a different thing!"

"Regardless," Walter cut in, the pair ceasing their bickering, "it means the world to me that you saved my son's life. I don't... I don't know what I would have done if I'd lost him. So from the bottom of my heart, thank you."

Danny rubbed the back of his head. "Uh... yeah. No problem. It was the right thing to do."

"I don't think I ever thanked you for saving me, either," Walter went on. "It would have been close to a year ago, I think, so maybe you don't remember. You saved me from some genie ghost by the fountain at the park. I'm not sure what would have happened if you hadn't shown up when you did, so again. Thank you."

Danny hunched his shoulders, flustered by all of the gratitude. "Mm-hm."

Walter seemed to have noticed his discomfort, so he mercifully said, "Your superhero ghost business is probably the last thing you want to be talking about right now. So tell me. How have the two of you been doing at school?"

Having moved on from the more emotional topic, the three finished off their meals, Walter offering the teens a scoop of vanilla ice cream each. Sweet treats devoured, Danny excused himself, thanking Wes and Walter for their hospitality. He wished Wes a happy birthday one last time, and then, shooting Walter a wary glance, transformed, turning intangible and flying through the roof.

After that, Wes retired to his room, sitting on his bed. Assured that Danny was gone, he grinned, shaking out his happy jitters. Once he'd settled down, he plucked his new plush from where he'd set it near his pillow. He smiled at it, and ran his thumb along the edge of its felt bangs before holding it close to his chest.

After a moment, he sighed, holding the plush away from himself so that he could study it. A small frown tugged at his lips as he thought about Fenton. Phantom. Agile, clever, selfless, witty, and above all, brave. He was, without a doubt, fantastic. Everything that a superhero was expected to be, and a better friend than he could ever ask for. Wes sighed again, laying down so that he could stare forlornly at his ceiling.

He wished he could be brave.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gay yearning? In MY self-indulgent Halfa AU fanfiction? More likely than you think.
> 
> I know I'm like a day late for Christmas, but I hope y'all had some good holidays, and I shall return after New Years with what will hopefully be another goodie!


	20. Pressure

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [ Happy New Year! ](https://wattsonwraith.tumblr.com/post/639095165302226944/happy-new-year-everybody-i-know-im-a-few-minutes)

Another week passed in the blink of an eye. Training had continued, school had resumed, and ghost attacks went as normal. And somehow, after everything, Wes was still barred from participating in said attacks. It was unfair, if you asked him.

But, he supposed it was an arrangement that worked for now. Danny had his superhero thing. Wes had basketball, and practices he needed to attend.

He made his way to his locker after one such practice session, paradoxically both exhausted and wound-up. He took out his backpack in preparation to head out, internally debating on whether he should burn his excess energy on the way home or before bed, when his ghost sense prickled on the back of his neck. Something was close.

Wes turned around, hand still resting on the locker door, and stared down the empty hallway. If he strained to listen, he could hear the beginnings of a commotion he couldn't see. That soon changed, as Danny stumbled back-first out of a classroom and into a row of lockers, Dash stomping out a moment later. Wes couldn't quite make out what was being said, but it definitely wasn't friendly. He held his breath and kept perfectly still, effectively silencing himself, and that was just enough for him to catch snatches of the conversation.

"I was supposed to have football practice!" Dash was saying, approaching until he was looming over his victim. "I wasn't supposed to get stuck in detention with you!"

Danny, to his credit, was unperturbed. "Hey, how is it my fault if you got caught shoving me into a locker by a teacher that wasn't Lancer?"

"I'm the star quarterback!" Dash shouted, grabbing Danny by the collar and shoving him against the lockers behind him. Wes's breath hitched, but he didn't move. Danny could handle himself. "This is gonna have an impact on my chance to get into a good team in college! If I can't manage a sports scholarship, then what else do I have to look forward to?!"

"Huh. You're actually considering your options now? Last year you acted like there was no hope for you at all after high school."

"Shut it, Fentwerp!" Dash gave Danny a brutal uppercut to the stomach, forcing him to double over. Anger curled in Wes's gut, and he tightened his grip on the locker door, which quietly creaked in protest. Why wasn't Danny defending himself? He was definitely stronger than Dash. Faster, too. He could end a fight in half a second, or slip away and escape. Dash would never be able to lay a finger on him. Not if Danny didn't allow it. So why didn't he fight back?

"I'm probably gonna get grounded now because of you!" Dash continued, giving Danny another harsh shove. "I was already on thin ice because of the C I got on the algebra test last week! Which reminds me, that was your fault too!"

"Oh come on, you already beat me up for that!" Danny protested.

"I wasn't finished!" Dash swung, and this time his fist connected with Danny's nose, landing with a sickening _crack_. His head snapped to the side, a fine bloody mist spraying from his nose and onto the locker next to him.

_SLAM!_

Danny's breath escaped as a fog that Dash didn't notice, and the air grew heavy around them. Though the hallway was well-lit, everything seemed muted, as if all the light had been sucked out of their surroundings. Danny could feel the hairs on his arms raising. Whatever was happening, Dash could feel it, too. The two of them looked over in unison.

Wes still had his hand pressed against his closed locker. His shoulders were hunched almost to his ears, his free hand balled in a fist at his side. Even from a distance his scowl was as clear as day, the corner of his mouth curling just enough to show his teeth. "...Let him go."

Danny sighed. "Oh, boy..."

Dash barked a high-pitched laugh, shaking himself from the unease that lay thick over the hall like a blanket. "Like I would listen to you, Weston. I need to teach this punk a lesson. What are you gonna do, stop me?"

That was clearly the wrong answer. Wes's hand slid down from the locker, and he stalked forwards, that suffocating presence seeming to follow him. The air practically hummed with it. "I said let him go," he growled.

Struck once again by the mysterious pressure, Dash "eeped," relinquishing his hold on Danny. But Wes was already upon him, grabbing him by the front of his letterman jacket with both hands and forcing him against the lockers. His eyes promised pain. "I bet you think you're tough, don't you. Does picking on people smaller than you make you feel strong? Does it?"

"Wes-" Danny tried to get a word in, hand clasped over his nose.

"What makes you think you get to wail on him whenever you want, huh?!" Wes snarled, fingers tightening around red fabric. "What gives you the right?!"

Dash whimpered, afraid for reasons he didn't quite understand. Wes was not an intimidating figure. He was round-faced and gangly, and several inches shorter than Dash. But in that moment, the jock found himself looking up at that seething glare, shrinking against the lockers like he was. Wes's face was largely cast in shadow, and his eyes reflected the faulty light above him, giving the appearance that they were glimmering a dour red, like a bad photograph. "Wh-What do you want from me?" Dash squeaked.

Wes leaned in close, close enough that their noses were almost touching. Dash whined and tried to lean away, but he had no room to move. Even if he did, he wasn't sure he would be able to do more than wiggle his fingers. Wes's jaw was clenched when he spoke, his teeth only barely parting. "Don't. Touch. Him. You're not allowed to touch him. If I ever find out you hurt him like this again, if you ever even _look_ at him funny-"

"That's enough, Wes," Danny cut him off.

Wes stopped, watching his friend out of the corner of his eye. Dash didn't dare to make a sound. Several tense seconds passed before anyone moved. With a huff, Wes released Dash, that strange pressure evaporating like it was never there. Dash fell on his rear with a gasp, staggering sideways before stumbling to his feet. He looked between the pair, and when neither made a motion to stop him, he booked it down the hallway.

Wes watched Dash as he fled, and then his gaze was back on Danny, anger spent and instead replaced with frantic worry. "Danny, are you okay? That looks really painful." His hand reached forwards, and then withdrew, unsure of how to help.

"Ugh, yep, I'm fine," Danny replied, dabbing at his nostrils. "...You know, you really shouldn't do that."

Wes reared back, indignant. "What, I shouldn't help you when you get beat up, since you obviously weren't gonna help yourself?"

"I can handle myself just fine," Danny grunted. He pinched his nose, then readjusted it in one quick motion, not making a sound as the blood that had been trapped inside spilled out and onto the floor. "You shouldn't have done... you know. The other thing."

Wes quirked a brow, trying and failing not to think about how often Danny must have reset a broken nose before to not even react to the realignment. "What other thing?"

"...You really didn't know what you were doing, did you." Wes shook his head, brows furrowed. Danny sighed, cocking his head and heading towards the exit. "Come on, looks like you need another lesson."

"Lesson?" Wes parroted, trailing after him. "...I wasn't doing a ghost thing, was I? God, Dash was right there. How much trouble am I gonna be in?"

"Don't worry, it's nothing that would be too obvious after one slip-up," Danny told him without breaking stride. "But if it keeps happening, it won't be long before someone figures out something's up. I'll explain later, we shouldn't talk about this at school." Wes gulped, then kept his lips pursed shut.

Soon, the pair found themselves once again in the woods. It was late enough in the year that the trees shielded them from the little lingering sunlight that remained, leaving them almost completely in the dark. Despite that, Wes could easily make out the blue in Danny's eyes, unnaturally vivid in the darkness. Idly, he wondered if his own were the same.

"Okay, so this is gonna be a hard one to explain," said Danny, "because it's kind of a ghost _thing,_ not really a power. Uh, pretty much every ghost has like... I guess it's an aura? Or a pressure? Every ghost is a little different, but it sorta makes everyone around you know what you're feeling. Sort of a projection of your emotions."

"...Empath power. Great." Wes snorted. "So, what, Dash knew I was mad at him? That would have been obvious anyway, right?"

"It's kinda different from that," Danny replied. "I mean, yes. But it's more like... you would have given him a sense of what you _wanted_ to do to him. And then made it feel about ten times worse. There's a reason guys like the Box Ghost are still somehow considered scary. Even though he really, _really_ isn't."

Wes opened his mouth, then closed it. It made a weird sort of sense. The Box Ghost wasn't even remotely scary, in appearance or in presentation. And yet somehow, whenever he showed up, the air around him just felt _wrong._ Really, every ghost that Wes could recall coming face to face with had the same effect. They made their threats and promises, and every single time, without fail, Wes believed them.

"...So it's like, the ghost version of trying to look big and scary?"

Danny shrugged. "That's how most ghosts use it. And the stronger the ghost, the stronger the effect they have, so it's pretty effective that way. But not every ghost does it to seem scary. It can be used to calm someone down, too. But it isn't as obvious that way."

"I'm guessing that's how you use it?" Wes asked.

"It keeps people from panicking as much when I'm trying to rescue them," Danny replied with another shrug. "And if I'm lucky, it makes the ghost hunters stop long enough for me to get away without getting shot at."

Wes hummed. "That sounds pretty handy. Are you gonna teach me how to do it now?"

Danny nodded. "Yep. It's kind of like intangibility, in a way. Once you can do it on purpose, it's easier not to do it on accident. Once in a while is fine, but it's a really bad idea to let it happen too often. And I'm gonna show you why, before we get into any actual practice."

That was all the warning Wes got before the atmosphere changed. The temperature dropped by several degrees, his breath escaping in small puffs of fog. A pit of dread that didn't belong pooled in his stomach, and he tried to move, to move away from a source he logically knew but couldn't connect the foreign feeling to. But he found that he couldn't, his limbs completely frozen in fear. He stared at Danny with wide, unblinking eyes, unable to look away. Danny's were loaded with an intensity Wes didn't think he'd ever seen in them before, icy blue replaced with ghastly, sickly green. Wes sensed, in that moment, that Danny could strike him down right then and there, and he would be powerless to stop it.

And then the feeling lifted, the air immediately warming as Danny broke eye contact. Wes's legs gave out, and he released a breath he didn't realize he was holding, breaking out in shivers. "...W-Woah..."

Danny frowned, clasping one of his arms. He'd enjoyed that about as much as Wes had. "See what I mean? Setting off someone's fight or flight instinct isn't much of a giveaway on its own. But I'm willing to bet I was doing the Scary Eyes."

"...The green glowy thing? Yeah," Wes squeaked, finally mustering the presence of mind to get back to his feet. The residual fear was quickly fading; whether it was a natural calm, or an effect of Danny's influence, he couldn't say. "...I didn't do that to Dash, did I?"

"The eyes? Sort of. With you it's more like the pupils change color at certain angles. It's a little more subtle," Danny assured him. "Your presence isn't nearly as strong as mine is, though. Definitely a lot of raw emotion there, but not really enough power to back it up."

"And knowing how to do this intentionally is gonna help me?" asked Wes.

Danny nodded. "It's really easy to get caught up in the moment and do it without thinking about it. But once you can do it on command, it gets a bit easier to feel it coming. Luckily, it's not too hard to figure out."

"...Okay. So how do I do this?"

"Alright, so the most important thing to keep in mind is what you want the people around you to feel," Danny began. "The tricky part is that if you wanna convince them, you gotta be able to convince yourself, too. It helps me if I think about something that makes me feel a certain way. If I want to keep someone calm, I picture myself making sure they stay safe. If I want someone to leave me alone, I think about punching that dumb Fruitloop in the face when he hits on my mom."

"...Fruitloop?"

Danny waved a hand, shaking his head. "Not important right now. To start out, I want you to make yourself as scary as possible. Ghost form helps, but whichever way you wanna do it doesn't matter."

After some deliberation, Wes opted to stay in human form. If it was a matter of making sure his secret stayed safe, then it only made sense to practice in the form that would be most vulnerable to being exposed. And if getting angry was what made him slip up before, then he supposed that getting angry again would help him here.

Though it pained him to do so, he brought forth the memory from a scant half hour before. Danny being forced against the row of lockers, the handles certainly leaving bruises along his spine. A punch to the stomach from someone who weighed at least 200 pounds, and could probably bench twice that. A hook to the face that Danny didn't even try to block. Blood on the lockers, on his chin, on his teeth. Nose purple and swollen, and just a tad crooked. No way he could have breathed through it. And Wes knew that, had he not been there, Danny would have likely received much worse.

Just like before, the air around him changed. The atmosphere grew thick and tense, and even the trees seemed to still, as if they were holding their breath in anticipation. The backs of Wes's eyes glinted in the darkness.

Danny let the stifling air linger a moment longer, then clapped once. "Alright, great, super scary."

It took Wes a moment to reel it back in, but once he had, life and sound gradually returned to the woods surrounding them. "You didn't seem all that scared," he said.

"I already knew what you were doing, which pretty much ruins the effect," Danny replied. "Besides, it doesn't work as well on ghosts, anyway. But for the sake of training let's say I'm terrified. So now, I want you to try to make me feel calm instead. Whatever you did before worked, so this time, basically do the exact opposite of that."

This came to Wes just as easily as the anger. Thoughts surfaced in his mind of warm meals at home, his dad feasting with him. The squeak of tennis shoes on the court. His trip to the carnival when he was nine. Danny, standing across from him now, safe from any bullies who would wish him harm.

That same stillness settled over the woods once again. But this time, it wasn't the tense silence that comes with the threat of something about to give. Instead, it was relaxed. Calm. A quiet that was easy and gentle, rather than loaded and taut.

Danny smiled. "Awesome, I think you've got it."

Wes relinquished his concentration, but the calm still lingered. He smiled back.

"So you remember how that felt, right? If you ever feel like you're getting too emotional or something, try to remember not to make everyone else emotional, too. I haven't been able to break that habit yet, but maybe you can curb it before it actually becomes one."

Wes nodded. "Alright, I'll try to be careful from now on. And thanks for telling me about it. I don't think I ever would have noticed if you hadn't pointed it out."

Danny grinned. "Yeah, any time. Now go home, I've got homework that I should at least pretend to try to work on."

Wes snorted. "Yeah, yeah. Can't believe you live with a tutor and you're still failing most of your classes."

"Pfft, ask my sister to loom over me when I'm trying to fill out a worksheet she explained in way too much detail to make any sense out of? Thanks, I'll pass."

Wes rolled his eyes. "You and your excuses... Guess I'll see you tomorrow."

Danny waved. "Yep, see you." The two transformed, briefly illuminating the woods as they took off towards home.

({O})

The bell rung, signalling the end of the last class the following day. Students filtered out of the classrooms, the halls filling and emptying at a dizzying pace. Danny was one of the last ones out, shouldering his backpack and scanning the nearly empty school for his two best friends.

And then an arm stretched out in front of him, blocking his exit. He looked up, and found Dash, predictably, leering over him. "I wasn't finished with you, Fenturf Grass."

Danny frowned. "Ugh, great. Can't you leave me alone today? I'm pretty sure you already hit your 'bully Danny' quota for the week."

"Well, the quota's gone up," Dash sneered, free hand smashing his victim's face against the wall. "So what's it gonna be this time, dweeb? Shove you in a locker? Give you a wedgie-swirlie combo? Or finish what I started yesterday? Or maybe I'll indulge a little and do all three."

"Aww, all that just for me?" Danny gushed, hand coming to rest on his chest.

"Shut up!" Dash grabbed Danny by the shirt and spun him so that his back was to the wall. "I think I'll start with the 'beating up' part, and see if you're still making wisecracks then!"

Danny's breath fogged. The lights overhead flickered, casting the hall in all sorts of strange colors. The air hummed with tension, thick enough that breathing was almost a conscious effort. It didn't take a genius to know that this was a ghost's doing. Dash seemed aware of it too, having toughed out far more ghost attacks than anyone could be bothered to count. Deciding that his hide wasn't worth picking on someone over, the jock released Danny, looking both ways before picking a random direction and taking off in search of a hiding place.

The moment he was gone, the oppressive air dissipated. Danny glanced side to side, and then sighed. "You can come out now. There's nobody here."

The wall next to him rippled, and then a head of red hair appeared, the rest of the body hidden behind the distortion. He looked rather smug. "He can't be clued in if he can't see me, right?"

"A fair point," Danny admitted, an amused smirk creeping onto his face. "Probably still a bad idea, but at least now it's an _informed_ bad idea."

Wes grinned. "Well, somebody has to watch your back, right? If you're not gonna defend yourself, then the least I can do is pick up the slack."

Danny rolled his eyes, not nearly as annoyed as he tried to look. "So, what, you're gonna be my new bodyguard now?"

Wes shrugged, his shoulders briefly appearing before they slumped behind the wall once more. "I don't mind if you don't."

"...Nah, I actually don't think I mind it too much," said Danny, his smirk melting into something softer. "Just don't get yourself into trouble for me, alright?"

"Don't worry, I'll be careful," Wes promised, fully emerging from the wall. "But you gotta promise to try to stay out of trouble, too."

Danny shook his head, the gesture more fond than anything. "You know I can't promise that. But, sure. I'll try to avoid getting cornered by weirdly clingy bullies in the future."

Seemingly satisfied with that answer, Wes nodded, readjusting his backpack and heading towards the exit. But before he disappeared from view completely, he tossed a look over his shoulder with one last message. "Oh, Sam and Tucker are waiting in the art room. Tucker had a sewing project he had to finish."

Danny huffed a laugh, turning and walking towards the classroom in question. Despite Wes's apparent... protectiveness? ...he was pleased to see the more inexperienced Halfa growing more comfortable with his powers. After barely a month of developing them, he had no doubt that there would still be some hiccups here and there. But to see him using them so casually already, and in such creative fashion— Danny couldn't deny that Wes imposing his presence where he couldn't be seen in order to avoid suspicion was pretty clever— put Danny at ease, perhaps for the first time since he had inflicted those powers on him.

Everything was going to be okay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I always thought it was pretty neat how lighting and background colors change in the show whenever a ghost shows up, but I noticed it doesn't happen every time. It almost never happens when a ghost is hiding its presence, and Danny himself very rarely causes a color shift. It seems to only really happen when a ghost is being outright hostile. I thought it would be interesting to come up with an in-universe explanation for that.
> 
> I've got a pretty good idea for what the next chapter is gonna be about, so I should see you guys soon!


	21. Returning

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Coming at you today with a little more action! It's a bit of a shorter one this time, so an easier read. Enjoy!

Wes hit the showers after a particularly strenuous practice session, sighing as the freezing cold water cooled his skin and soothed his overworked muscles. Once he was satisfactorily clean, he shut the water off, wrapping a towel around his waist and draping another over his shoulders. Shaking the droplets out of his hair, he went to his locker for his clothes, turning the combination lock on autopilot. He was looking forward to a good night's rest.

The second the locker opened, he was forced against the wall behind him as a green slime flew out, pinning him by his wrists and throat. He struggled and kicked, but the goop held fast, quickly thickening until it was too dense to do more than wiggle in. "What the-?" he choked out.

"Excellent," a deep voice echoed throughout the empty locker room. "Everything is going exactly as I planned it."

"...You?!" Wes gasped, grimacing as Skulker came into view. The gunk over his throat was loose enough that he could still breathe, but it wasn't exactly comfortable. "What do you want? And couldn't you have waited for me to be decent before you trapped me?"

"I prefer to strike when it's least expected," Skulker replied. "If I had waited until you were properly dressed, well, that would indicate some level of preparation, now wouldn't it?" Wes glowered. "...Hm. You aren't quite as flighty as last time."

"I didn't know what I was doing last time," Wes retorted. "Now, I have no reason to be afraid of you."

"You forget that you didn't stand a chance against me before, and based on the fact you haven't escaped yet, you still don't," the hunter smirked. "If you're waiting for the other ghost child to save you, don't hold your breath. He's stuck in a trap of his own, one much sturdier than yours. He won't be getting free any time soon, so you have nobody to protect you from me, the Ghost Zone's greatest hunter!"

Wes frowned. "Didn't realize being the Ghost Zone's greatest hunter meant only attacking when someone was at their most defenseless. Where's the sport in that?"

"Quiet, whelp!" Skulker snarled, a small laser gun springing forth from his wrist. "Unless you wish to be prematurely silenced!"

Wes crossed his eyes at the gun, wary of the amount of firepower behind it. But then a shiver wracked his spine, and he grinned. Skulker blinked at the odd reaction, then released a pained grunt as he was dropkicked from the side, sending him crashing through a bench. Phantom hovered sternly, keeping himself firmly between Wes and Skulker.

"What?!" the hunter exclaimed. "How did you get loose?!"

Danny waggled a finger. "If I told you that, you might come up with something that works a little better." He tilted his head, casting Wes a worried glance. "You okay? Did he hurt you?"

Wes shook his head. "Nah, I'm pretty sure he was just trying to humiliate me." He gestured to himself as well as he was able, then fell back through the wall. He reappeared in ghost form as Skulker was getting to his feet, coming up through the floor with a swift kick that unbalanced the larger ghost enough to send him falling back into a standing row of lockers. "So he trapped me, he trapped you, who knows what other traps he has laying around. Guess it's safer to stick close to you, huh?"

Danny scowled, seeing right through the flimsy excuse. "No, _safer_ would be to get as far away from this guy as possible and leave him to me. You aren't ready to fight Skulker."

The ghost in question growled threateningly, baring his jagged teeth as he struggled to his feet. "You'd best listen to him, whelp. I don't intend to be nearly as lenient with you as I was last time, now that I know what you are. I would advise taking whatever chance you have to escape, futile as it may be."

Wes gave him an unimpressed look. "...Hey, question for you. You're basically a ghost in a robotic suit, right?"

Skulker's brows raised, surprised at the random inquiry. "...Well, yes, I suppose you could say that."

"So that means something has to be powering it, right?"

This time Skulker hesitated in answering him. "...If you're searching for some sort of weakness, I would suggest giving up. You won't be finding one."

Wes waggled his eyebrows at Danny, his grin almost mischievous. But Danny's frown only deepened. "I know what you're thinking, and no. Absolutely not."

"Oh, come on, it'll totally work!" Wes whined. "I know I can pull it off!"

"Yeah, sure, because your plan worked so well last time you fought him."

"I know I can do it this time!" Wes argued. "Just get me close and I know I can stop him."

"Getting close is how you almost lost a foot before!" Danny spluttered.

"Are you two almost done?" Skulker deadpanned. "Because I would much rather start hunting you than listen to you bicker."

Wes ignored him, instead scowling at Danny. "Look, I can do this, okay? Just trust me on this one."

Danny pursed his lips, and then groaned. "Ugh, fine. But only because you won't run when I tell you to. And you better leave the actual fighting to me."

Wes flashed that broad grin of his, and Danny just knew he wasn't going to stay mad for long.

With that finally out of the way, Skulker braced himself, missile launchers sprouting from his shoulders and firing. Wes darted to the side, tail manifesting in the process, while Danny sliced through the barrage with a wave of ectoplasm. Another round quickly followed, with the Halfa summoning a shield to block them. Still, the force was enough to briefly push him back, and Skulker took the opportunity to focus on his weaker target.

Wes yelped in alarm as an ectobullet whizzed by, taking a fragment of his sleeve with it. He ducked behind another row of lockers, maneuvering around the stream of bullets as they pierced his cover. He popped up over the top, then cried out as he was ensnared in a glowing blue net.

"See, this is why I told you to stay out of it," Danny grouched, recovering enough to fly towards Skulker. The hunter withdrew his net cannon, summoning and aiming a large ectogun that protruded from somewhere behind his elbow. But before he could fire, Wes flashed, Skulker recoiling and firing a beam that missed Danny by several feet. The moment of distraction was enough for Danny to land a vicious sucker punch, and for Wes to find an opening in the net and wriggle free.

"Insolent brats!" Skulker roared, twin blades protruding from each wrist. He charged at Danny, swinging with one pair and then the other. Danny weaved and parried, leaving patches of frost wherever his forearms blocked the blows. Skulker drew back, raising both feet and firing a series of darts from the soles of his boots. Danny dodged these as well, his form elongating and contorting to avoid them.

And then Skulker shouted, arching backwards as Wes gripped his bicep in both hands. He lashed out, and the young Halfa withdrew, grin still plastered on his face. The afflicted arm twitched and spasmed, and Skulker held it close, watching with astonishment. "Wait a minute. That was no glitch... That was you?!"

Wes laughed, the sound a sharp, giddy bark. "What did I tell you? I knew this would work!"

"I don't know how you managed to drain my suit," Skulker growled lowly, his arm finally recovering, "but rest assured that I won't let it happen again."

"Well. You blew your best chance," Danny hummed, unsurprised and unimpressed.

However, Wes wasn't discouraged. "If you wanna stop me, first you gotta catch me!" He zipped towards Skulker, and then away when the hunter made to slash him. While his back was turned, Danny shot him from behind, his jetpack tanking the worst of the blast. Skulker whirled around, a laser at his hip whining as it warmed up, but he had to divert his attention yet again as Wes made another mad dash for him, using yet another raygun to deter him. Danny prepared another ectoblast, and Skulker narrowly dodged it, putting space between himself and his two attackers.

"I can't let the whelp keep attacking me like he has been," the hunter muttered to himself. "But I can't let the fledgling touch me, either. This is going to be more difficult than I thought... I'll have to separate them somehow if I want to capture them."

While he worked on devising his strategy, Danny and Wes talked amongst themselves. "I can't believe this is working," Danny said.

"I can," Wes replied confidently. "He can't focus on both of us at the same time. If you can keep him busy, I can definitely sap him, then you can suck him up with that thermos of yours."

"...Alright. I can do that," Danny affirmed. "You steer clear until I get his attention. Focus on dodging. And whatever you do, stay away from the walls. He wanted to keep us apart before, and he probably doesn't want us fighting together now. There's a pretty good chance he's littered the place with booby traps."

Wes nodded, lips pursed apprehensively. It was just one more thing to think about. But in a place as small and hard to maneuver in as a school locker room, he dearly hoped Danny was wrong. He didn't know what Skulker could have set up, and he wasn't eager to find out.

Not wanting to give Skulker too much time to think, Danny decided to make his move. He clenched his fists and concentrated, his form stretching sideways before fully bisecting itself. The two halves filled themselves out, and where there had been one Phantom, there was now two.

"Ha!" Wes exclaimed. "I knew you could duplicate!"

"Last thing you need to worry about right now," one Danny said, the other picking up where he left off. "I can't do this for long, so the second you see an opening, take it."

The doppelgangers took off, one immediately striking Skulker with a powerful uppercut, sending him into the air. The other took pursuit, kicking him back towards the ground. But he strayed too close to the ceiling, and the tiles opened up to reveal a panel riddled with small holes, out of which flew several darts. The clone yelled and dispersed as it was struck, but was quickly replaced with another duplicate, Danny gritting his teeth with effort.

Skulker recovered from the blows, his jetpack sputtering to life and saving him from his fall. He snarled, firing a round of rockets at the pair. One fired a volley of ectoblasts to prematurely set them off, and the other dodged the ones that made it through the barrage. But Skulker was right behind them, charging and striking one of the duplicates on the jaw, sending him reeling. The hunter took the opportunity to glance over to where Wes had last been, but he was nowhere to be seen. Skulker knew better than to suspect he'd fled. He needed to keep his guard up, even as Danny and his carbon copy demanded his attention.

The pair continued to bombard Skulker with various attacks, forcing him to focus solely on them. Despite the constant pressure, the hunter held his own, attempting to push the offense while avoiding the worst of the blows. Occasionally a doppelganger triggered a trap or two and dissolved, only for another to pop into existence in its place. But Danny could only make so many before he exhausted himself, forcing him to once again face Skulker one on one.

"You're wearing yourself thin, whelp," Skulker crooned. "You can't keep this up forever. Your plan is going to fail, and when it does, I will capture both you and your friend, and proudly put you on display!"

"As always, ew," Danny panted. Despite his weariness, he smirked. "But how do you know my plan isn't already working?"

"Huh?" Skulker hadn't realized it, but he had backed Danny towards a particularly obvious depression in the wall. The Halfa darted past Skulker, giving him a harsh shove as he went. The hunter shouted in surprise as he was forced against his own trap. Cables appeared along it, lashing out and ensnaring his ankles and wrists. He glared, struggling to pull loose from his bonds. "You putrid whelp!"

Danny flew back, putting distance between himself and his opponent. "Now, Watt!"

Wes flew down from the ceiling, eager excitement dancing in his eyes. He landed in front of Skulker, reaching out with both hands and planting his palms against the hunter's chest. He bared his teeth in a victorious grin, and without preamble, he _pulled._

Skulker roared as his suit convulsed beyond his control, unable to pull away. His fingers rapidly flexed and curled, whining in protest. He attempted to summon a weapon, any weapon to get his attacker to move away, but most froze or retracted before they could fully power up. Others merely hummed and groaned, spitting sparks. Wes grit his teeth, struggling to drain the suit of every last ounce of power it held. Electricity arced along his arms and tangled in his hair, dancing and snapping but unable to escape him. His core gave a powerful shudder, begging to release the energy it was brimming with, but Wes powered through it. His skin tingled, his limbs shook with exertion, but he knew he was close, _so close._ He just needed to keep going a little longer...

Finally, the suit ceased its jerking, slumping as the last of its power was absorbed. Wes immediately broke contact, and Danny pulled out the thermos, Skulker shouting obscenities as he was dragged inside. "I'll have your pelt for this!" he declared, his voice dwindling to nothing as the cap settled over the beam.

Wes quivered, immediately whirling around and slamming a flat palm against the nearest locker. The entire unit flashed as the current was forced through it, individual lockers popping and groaning. One flew open, uselessly dribbling ectoplasmic slime as the trap within harmlessly deactivated. Once depleted, Wes sighed in relief, slumping against the lockers and allowing himself to change back. The entire unit was fried, lightly smoldering and reeking of ozone.

The pair simply stood there for a moment, catching their breath. It was Danny who broke the silence, hands on his knees. "...I can't believe that actually worked... Are you okay? You looked like you were gonna spill over."

Wes's knees were trembling, threatening to give out under him, but he was still smiling weakly. "...Yeah, I'm good... And look at that. Barely a scratch on us!"

Danny glanced down at himself, and realized that Wes was right. Aside from a few scuffs and a light splatter of Skulker's trap goo throughout, he was almost completely unharmed. Wes himself was in a similar state, his wrists slightly red from his initial capture but otherwise totally unblemished. They were both exhausted to their cores, but neither of them had sustained a single injury. "...Huh. I guess you're right."

Wes grinned even wider. "So I can fight ghosts with you now, right?"

Danny frowned disapprovingly, his expression promising a thorough chewing out. But he chose not to scold his friend right then, instead sighing. "...You can fight _Skulker._ But not by yourself. Either run, or wait for help, but don't take him on alone." Wes pumped a fist. "Now come on, help me deactivate whatever's left of these traps before some janitor or something sets them off."

Wes nodded, and after managing to salvage his clothes— it turned out going ghost and changing back did _not_ magically make clean clothes appear on your person— the two methodically searched the demolished locker room for any remaining active traps. By the time they had finished, they were more than ready to go home. "There," said Danny. "I think we can leave the rest to a custodian."

"Agreed," Wes huffed tiredly. "I feel like I could sleep for about five years."

Danny nodded in agreement, walking out with his friend at his side. "I think we deserve it at this point."

Wes yawned. "Too bad we're still stuck with school." Danny hummed, and the two made their way towards the exit...

...only for Danny to end up upside down as his leg got caught in a snare.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wes may be getting a little cocky now that he has some iota of offensive ability. Only time will tell if he's earned it or not.
> 
> I get the feeling the next chapter is gonna be a fun one. So I will be seeing you guys soon!


	22. Deceit

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ugh, sorry, I know this one took forever. My immediate knee-jerk Wes hype has sort of died down, so even though I'm just as into the Phandom as before, I am once again finding it easier to get distracted and sidetracked by other things. As such, I will still definitely be updating, but chapters may or may not continue to take longer to update. I have tons of ideas still, and therefore I don't plan to drop this story any time soon.

Monday's first period was extraordinarily boring. With Christmas break being only a couple weeks away, Mr. Lancer had decided to be lenient with the class. Rather than giving the students a hefty exam, he had opted to instead offer a series of smaller assignments. On one hand, that meant there wasn't a huge project to prepare for before the break. On the other, the sheer number of droning lectures was a nightmare to sit through.

Wes was having a particularly difficult time focusing, his eyes blinking out of sync as he struggled to follow the teacher's lesson. He'd spent a majority of the night before attempting to control the path of his electrical current to form patterns on his skin. It had been a fruitless endeavor, but an intriguing one, keeping him up until the wee hours of the morning. As such, it was all he could do to keep Lancer's scribbles from blurring into a string of garbled nonsense.

At the very least, Wes was hardly the only student in such a state. Most of the class was having trouble staying awake, with a few having given up the battle entirely. The fact that he was, somehow, one of the most lucid teens in the room made him feel marginally better.

Which, unfortunately, proved to be something of a dilemma.

Unbidden, Wes's nose began to itch, then tingle. He sniffed and wrinkled it to alleviate the feeling, but in only grew steadily worse. With a growing sense of dread, he realized that he had to sneeze. Which wasn't a problem in and of itself, but the room was far too quiet, the only sounds being a student snoring in the back of the class, and Lancer's quiet and oddly soothing voice as he explained the meaning behind a literary quote Wes hadn't paid attention to. If he sneezed then, there was no way he wouldn't draw attention to himself. Sneezing in a quiet classroom was just about the most mortifying thing one could do, and Wes knew that there would be no stopping this one.

He sucked in a breath, and then another. His head reared back, and with a powerful kick, he sneezed. "AH-CHOO!"

The entire classroom lit up with blinding white light. It only lasted the duration of the sneeze, but any student that was still awake was left blinking away stars, and those that weren't had been instantly roused. Everyone stared. Wes sniffed once, and then gasped, fingers tightly gripping the edge of his desk. Glancing about, his eyes met Danny's, and he looked just as alarmed as Wes felt. Should he escape? There was no way nobody had noticed. They all had to know he was a ghost now. Which form was he in? Would he ever be able to show his face again?

Mr. Lancer was looking over his shoulder, chalk halfway raised against the board. He looked at Wes with an expression of barely disguised irritation. Wes gulped. " _...American Gods,_ Mister Weston, what have I told you about using your camera in class?"

Wes blinked, wondering if he could actually be this lucky. "...Um... Not to do it?"

"And you didn't even have the courtesy of leaving the flash off," Lancer tutted, shaking his head. "Detention. One hour, after school."

"Oh, come on," whined Wes, but really, he couldn't be bothered to be too upset. Sure, it meant he had to miss basketball practice, but he definitely preferred that to revealing his secret identity because of a sneeze. That would have been a humiliating way to go.

The rest of the school day went by slowly. Wes began to wake up more as the day progressed, and worked a nap in during his lunch, despite whatever protests Danny might have made. Eventually the day drew to a close, and Wes sat quietly in Mr. Falluca's empty classroom, browsing forums on his phone while the teacher left to print out worksheets for the following week. A few minutes later, in trudged Danny, slumping in the seat next to Wes's. "Slept through a test," he said without waiting for the question.

Wes snorted, indicating that he'd heard. It was true that Casper had its fair share of problem students, and in some ways Danny could be considered one of them. But as far as Wes knew, Danny had never done anything to cause any actual trouble. Nothing that warranted the sheer number of detentions he earned, anyway. It was as if the whole faculty had it out for him. "Seriously? They couldn't let you fail and be done with it? Way to rub it in."

"No kidding," Danny grunted. "And what about you? You're here because a camera flash went off." He made air quotes around "camera flash." "You should be more careful about that, by the way. But seriously. Detention?"

"I know!" Wes exclaimed. "And did you see how snooty he was? ' _American Gods,_ Mister Weston, what... have I told you... about...'" He trailed off in the middle of his impression, and Danny stared, stunned. Neither of them could believe what they'd heard.

Because Wes sounded almost exactly like Mr. Lancer.

There was a pregnant pause, and then they both burst out laughing, Danny with a high-pitched cackle, and Wes with a nasally wheeze. "Jeez, Wes, I didn't know you were that good at impersonations," Danny gasped, wiping a tear from his eye.

"Neither did I," Wes chuckled. " _Life of Pi,_ I think I've stolen his identity!" Danny laughed all over again, bending over the desk as he struggled to contain himself. "Look at me, I'm Mr. Lancer! I barely make minimum wage, and if I have to be miserable, then so does everyone else!"

The two roared with laughter as Wes blurted out increasingly absurd things in the teacher's voice. But after some time, they both managed to settle down. "Alright, I think that's enough," said Wes, still grinning from ear to ear. "I don't know what the chances are of him coming in and hearing this, but I don't really want a longer detention than I already have." He hummed, and then frowned.

Danny quirked a brow. "Then why are you still impersonating him?"

"...I don't... I don't think I can stop."

"...What do you mean you don't think you can stop?"

"I mean I'm stuck!" Wes exclaimed. "My voice won't go back to normal!"

"What? How can you be _stuck_ doing a voice impression?"

"I don't know!" cried Wes. "I'm trying to fix it, but it won't go back!" He sucked in a nervous breath. "...This isn't ghost-related, is it?"

"Ugh, I hope not," Danny groaned. "A new power surfacing, right at the start of the school week, and you have no idea how to control it? This is seriously the last thing we need right now." He gasped, the air in front of him chilling, and at the same time Wes shuddered. "...And so is that."

Danny jumped on top of the desk, taking to the air and transforming in one fluid motion. Wes stood to join him, but Danny held out a hand to stop him. "Oh, no you don't. You're staying right here."

"What?! But I'm able to fight now," Wes whined.

"No, you're able to fight _Skulker,_ " Danny countered. "We don't know who this is yet, so you're staying here, where it's safer."

Wes groaned, but he threw himself back into his seat while Danny flew off to take care of the threat. Wes cupped his cheek in his hand, nose scrunching indignantly. "You're staying here, where it's safer," he mocked. Then he slammed his forehead against the table when he realized he now sounded like the teen he was mimicking. "Ugh, great."

{(O)}

Nothing got better the following day. Wes stayed quiet all throughout first and second period, and simply muttered responses when called on for third. It wasn't until lunch that Danny, Sam, and Tucker got the opportunity to check in on him. "So what's this I hear about you roasting Lancer?" Tucker inquired.

Wes cradled his forehead against steepled fingers, staring forlornly at his sad excuse for a school lunch through the gap between his arms. When he spoke, it was with the voice of some notorious television chef. "Got stuck with his voice yesterday. Now I'm stuck with this one."

"Is that Gourd Ramsheep?" asked Danny, unable to resist an amused smirk.

"It's fun to yell things with his accent," Wes argued weakly, huffing irritably. "It seems like I can do just about every voice except my own."

"Oh! Oh! Can you do Sam's?" Tucker requested, practically bouncing in his seat.

Wes gulped, casting a nervous glance at the girl in question. But the goth simply quirked a brow, voice daring. "Oh, no, no, go ahead. I would _love_ to hear how I sound to you."

Wes looked to Danny for help, but his friend only shrugged, while next to him Tucker was eagerly gesturing for him to go ahead. He really didn't want to. Out of the group, Sam was the one who liked him the least, and she also happened to be the most intimidating. The last thing he wanted was to risk offending her, but based on Danny and Tucker's obviously piqued interest, he wasn't getting out of it. He sighed, clearing his throat to stall for time as he thought of what the least offensive thing he could say would be. Sam was an activist, right? So maybe something to do with that?

The teen swallowed thickly, and he felt something in his throat shift as he willed himself to take on this new voice. He opened his mouth, and spoke in a monotone quite similar to Sam's. "You better not tread on me. These soles are four inches thick, and I'm not afraid to tread back." The trio all glanced at each other without a word, then back at Wes. He could feel himself sweat. "...What? I couldn't think of anything better."

"...Nah, I'd say that was pretty spot-on," said Tucker.

"I would deduct points for the circumstantial moral ambiguity behind the 'don't tread on me' statement," Sam added, "but otherwise, that _almost_ sounds like something I might say." Despite the criticism, she crossed her arms and leaned back in her seat, evidently satisfied. Wes sighed in relief.

"Okay, now do Tetslaff," Danny urged.

Wes rolled his eyes, but smirked, somewhat amused by this game. He sucked in a breath, and barked, "What are you kids doing stuffing your faces?! Quit lollygagging and get back to the field!"

"Oh man, too real, dude," Tucker said, but he was shaking with silent laughter, arms wrapped tightly around himself.

"The question is, can you do the mayor?" asked Sam with a small smile of her own.

"Why, of course," Wes replied in a deep, refined droll. "Don't mind me, I'll just be doing something blatantly and highly illegal while I sip this fancy tea paid for with your tax dollars, and nibble on the most exotic cheeses money can buy."

By then, the entire group was cackling at Wes's various impressions. Danny wiped a stray tear from his eye, grinning from ear to ear. "Whew. That one was scary accurate. Even without this whole mimicry thing you've got going on, you're weirdly good at this."

Slowly, the smile dropped from Wes's face, turning into something forlorn. He propped his elbows up on the table, cupping his chin in his hands. "...Yeah, well. It would be nice if I could just choose not to be. It feels like I can mimic just about any voice I want except mine."

"...Did you try?" asked Tucker.

"What are you talking about?" Wes groused. "I can't mimic my own voice. It's _my_ voice. It should go back to normal eventually, right?"

Sam, Tucker, and Danny all shared a look, something silently passing between them. "You think he's overthinking things again?" Sam suggested.

"I dunno, it seems more like he's underthinking this time, if you ask me," Danny replied.

"Underthinking what?" Wes demanded with a groan. "Ugh, don't tell me this is gonna be one of those 'obvious in hindsight' solutions."

"Dude. Just do an impression of yourself," Tucker told him. "It's worked for every other voice you've tried, right? Maybe you can't just _let it_ go back to normal. Maybe you've gotta _make it_ go back."

"...That sounds way too easy," Wes said after a short pause. And lo and behold, it wasn't Vlad's voice that came out, or a teacher's, or a television show host's, but his own. He let his forehead hit the table, moaning loudly. "...It was actually that easy..."

"Ehhh, you're not quite there," Danny told him, rocking his hand from side to side. "You usually squeak when you're upset about something."

"I do not squeak," Wes barked, his voice briefly cracking.

"There it is."

Wes opened his mouth for an angry retort, but Tucker beat him to it. "Hey, at least now you know what to do if it happens again. Plus you have a neat new party trick."

Wes clamped his mouth shut, instead humming thoughtfully. Slowly, a mischievous smile crept onto his face, hands rubbing together. Tucker was right.

{(O)}

Danny opened his locker Wednesday morning, tossing his backpack inside. He yawned tiredly, hand cupping his mouth. It just figured that a ghost would attack the neighborhood in the middle of the night, and _of course_ it was Johnny and Kitty, having apparently gotten back together, _again._ He'd spent half the night chasing them around town before he was finally able to catch them, and was only able to get a couple hours of rest before his alarm woke him up. He moaned, debating whether it was worth bringing a textbook to class to hide behind, or if he just didn't care about openly sleeping.

_HONK!_

Danny practically jumped out of his skin, his head hitting the top of his locker at the sound of what had to be a car horn right next to his ear. He whirled around, and was met with Wes, doubled over and laughing his head off. "Oh, man! You should see the look on your face!" he cackled.

"W...Wes? What are you doing, what _was_ that?!" Danny demanded, rubbing his sore noggin.

"A car horn!" Wes replied happily. So Danny had been right. He opened his mouth to ask how Wes had pulled it off, but the jock was already explaining. "Apparently I can do more than just mimic voices. It works for sounds, too! See?" He sucked in a breath, bared his teeth, and roared, lip curled in a snarl. Danny realized, blinking in astonishment, that it sounded almost exactly like the lion in the logo that preceded a lot of older movies.

"Okay that's fantastic, but keep it down, someone will hear you!" Danny warned him, hands making a downwards pushing motion.

Wes cackled. "Alright, alright, I know. But imagine all the cool stuff I'll be able to do with this! Maybe I can be a... a... a master of diversion and espionage!"

Danny couldn't help but be amused by Wes's enthusiasm. It was almost sort of endearing. " _Or,_ you could be fantastic prank bait."

"...Or maybe, I can go in the woods and attract a Bigfoot!" Wes added excitedly.

"Bigfoot?" Danny repeated. "...Wes, Bigfoot doesn't even exist."

"You don't know that," the jock pouted. "Just because you haven't seen one, doesn't mean they aren't real. Besides, ghosts and vampires exist, so why not Bigfoot?"

"...But vampires don't-"

Right then, the bell signalling the start of the first class of the day rang. They were officially late. "Crap, I gotta go!" Wes declared. He turned on his heel and sprinted down the hallway, skidding to a stop next to his classroom and darting inside.

With no real sense of urgency, Danny huffed a laugh, following after Wes at a more leisurely pace. The guy never seemed to run out of things to be excited about, did he. "Pfft, what a dork."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next chapter will be kinda-but-not-really filler, more of a silly little concept I've been toying with the idea of but hadn't found an appropriate way to address yet. But after that, I intend to do another action chapter. Woot!


End file.
